Binary Uplift
by Locutus
Episode 11
"Expansions and Miniatures"
(Episode 4 in the plotline "Shelby's Ark")
"Thanks, Wayne, much appreciated," Jacob Ross said in reply to the cup of coffee that his assistant offered him.
Wayne Tannon repossessed the chair besides the one Ross was sitting on, after which they both continued staring at the display screen that was decorated by a paper sticker, reading "Transducer project, do not touch!" They ignored the noisy environment of the Fermilab experimentation room around them.
The lines of analysis data that were dashing across the screen would surely have appeared like random numbers to everybody else, maybe fit to predict next week's lottery numbers, but to the two scientists they bore a much deeper meaning.
"You know, I still can't believe we're doing this. So many months we spent on perfecting the combinational splitting safeguards, and now we're deliberately sabotaging them," Ross uttered with a distinct tone of irritation.
"Yeah, seems odd indeed," Tannon replied. "Though mission objectives tend to change, you know."
"They can change, yeah, but this here feels more like a one hundred and eighty turn."
"I wouldn't see it that negative, Jacob. They're not throwing the Transducer application overboard, they're merely adding some new twists to it. One of which might prove very beneficial, if it works."
Ross pondered. "If it works. Under different circumstances, I'd hope now that they allow us more time for simulation and testing this time. But you heard the man from the Head Office."
"Yeah. I wonder what they need that power generator for so urgently, but as usual, they..."
A querying noise from the computer interrupted him. "Okay, double-check the data please," Ross said. He knew that they could not afford any mistakes; not at this stage of their work and not with the deadline they had been set.
"I'm on it. Though I doubt I'll find any errors there."
A little pressed smile appeared on Ross' face. "As much as people want me to be infallible, I'm afraid I'm not."
Despite Ross' skepticism, Tannon did not find anything wrong with the input parameters they were about to apply, so they instructed the computer to begin the experiment. As the result data appeared a few minutes later, accompanied by a pleasantly sounding confirmation noise, they both once more stared at the screen.
"Holy..." Tannon uttered.
It took Ross a few seconds before he managed to close his mouth. "Okay, this looks... promising, to say the least. Let's call Cameron over here, he needs to see this."
Seems that Preen's new playthings have just gotten within reach of becoming reality, Ross thought.
Thomas West sighed. He knew that this was going to be one of those days where one had better just stayed in bed. Hitting his toe on the frame of his bedroom door, then later dropping his breakfast toast and almost slipping on the wet bathroom floor had been clear indications for that.
Had he known that this had been merely the beginning, he might indeed have considered calling in sick and staying in bed.
But he did not know, so he managed to get through the morning, and turning towards the door to leave for work, he instructed his household robot to clean up the place while he was away. "And Andrew, try to be a little more thorough this time."
The N-DRW models, which was short for Networked Domestic Robot Worker, indeed constituted a great help for confirmed bachelors like West was, if they worked correctly. Especially the networked part, which was supposed to integrate them seamlessly into the home automation system, sometimes caused more trouble than benefit.
The robot, which looked like a silvery android on two legs, not too different from a certain protocol droid from a sci-fi movie series that West quite liked, confirmed the command and watched as the botanist stepped out through the door.
"Hello, Mr. West!" a female voice called from behind him as he was approaching his hovercar. Alarmed, he turned around, and his view fell onto a young good-looking woman, in her mid-twenties, who was smiling at him. An oversized handbag was dangling over her shoulder. She appeared vaguely familiar to him, but he could not really remember...
"I'm Kimberly Wells, BnL Network News. Sorry if I startled you."
A frown crossed West's face. "Right, I know you from those TV shows. But how did you find my house? I was under the impression that the Survey does not give out employees' private addresses."
"Well, let's just say I got other sources than the official ones."
"Yeah, I suppose you do. What brings you here then?"
"I'd like to show you something and hear your opinion about it. Look here."
Kimberly produced a small handheld video playback device from her purse. After she pressed a few buttons, the screen lit up and showed a recording of a ghostly scene in a dimly moonlit corn field. Some large deformed plants could be seen, then the camera panned and showed a box on the ground from which some liquid was flowing into the earth.
West's jaw dropped. "What the... How the heck did you get this? No one's supposed to enter the... Now wait a minute."
Looking at the little smirk on Kim's face, a thought came to him, causing his frown to become even more prominent. "You broke into the Shelbington Farm to record this?" he exclaimed in disbelieve.
"Mr. West, please. That would be illegal."
"You're damn right it would. Aside from that, what on this trashy Earth could've given you the idea to break into a farm?"
"Well, let's just say that finding said farm sealed off, complete with an armed guard post deployed at its entrance, is fit to arouse a journalist's suspicion. Especially when the post is standing besides a huge 'keep out' sign."
Now it was West who could not stifle a smirk. Then he sighed. "Alright then, since you're here and obviously got your story already, I might as well be honest with you."
"Honest sounds good. Cause, you know, I have this neck for noticing if people are lying to me."
West nodded. He had heard stories that Wells was some kind of living lie detector. She seemed to have the ability to deduce if someone was telling the truth from the subtlest of physical reactions, little body movements or changes in facial expressions, that only well-trained people knew how to keep under control. Being a journalist, that ability was of course quite advantageous.
"Okay then. What you recorded there is just the outcome of a fertilizer experiment. A failed one, as you might have noticed. The feed charge parameters for the deployment box were wrong, having it pump too much fertilizer into the plant, and the result you got there on your video."
Considering the amount of luck that Keith Sageman had been having recently, one might have suspected that he and Thomas West were two entangled quantum mechanical particles which, when measured, always took on opposite properties, no matter the distance between them. From a realistic point of view that was of course quite improbable, not only because Sageman had never met West, which was a prerequisite for quantum particles to become entangled.
Leaving his house in the Village, as the main residential area of the Fermilab complex was called, Sageman was enjoying his streak of good luck anyway, even without knowledge about any deeper quantum mechanical background. He headed down along the walkway that led away from the house and towards a larger road on which he would reach the monorail station. From there, a hovercabin would take him along the tracks of the "Batavia Road", which had been an ordinary car driveway in former times, just like the other major roads in the complex.
On his way to work, Sageman once more marveled at the sheer dimensions of the Fermilab campus. The lab premises of his former employer, the CASE institute, had been nowhere as spacious. Fermilab was rather a small town unto itself, covering an area of five by seven kilometers, complete with - aside from the obligatory laboratory buildings and shopping malls - considerable recreational and residential areas. There even were extended parks with lakes, one of which started just beyond the road Sageman was just walking along.
A few minutes later he reached the monorail stop. The cabins were passing by at minute intervals, so no Fermilab employee or resident of the Village ever needed to wait long for a ride. Sageman's ride would take him along Batavia Road and "Road D", past the Technical Division building and the Feynman Computing Center, where his cabin would turn into "Road B" which passed by his destination, "Site 38".
The noise of a signal horn announced the arrival of his cabin. Sageman waited until it stopped and its doors slid open, then he entered.
"Hi there," a voice called and made Sageman look up from the book which he was reading during his cabin ride. A young handsome woman with dark skin and curly hair smiled at him. "This seat taken?"
"No, please, sit down," Sageman replied and took his belongings away from the seat beside him.
"Thanks... Mr. Sageman," the woman said. After a moment of puzzlement, Sageman remembered the ID badge that was decorating his work outfit.
"Oh, right, the badge. Still not used to that," he smiled. "In my old workplace we didn't need to carry those."
"Yeah, took me a bit too. Hmm, Keith G. Sageman. May I know what the G stands for?"
Sageman smirked. "I'm not overly proud of it, but it's 'Gordon'."
"Gordon." The woman looked absorbed in thought for a moment. "Why not proud? It's a nice name. Say, you don't happen to be working in Hazardous Materials Handling, do you?"
There was the second moment of puzzlement. "Uhm, no, Transducer Project. What makes you think I'm in Hazmat?"
"Oh nothing, never mind. You and especially your name just remind me of someone I used to know, and who did happen to work there."
Gordon smiled. "Okay then, Miss..." He noticed that the young woman was not carrying a badge.
"Lance, Alexys Lance. I'm not overly proud of that name either, so you might as well go ahead and call me Alyx, like most of my friends."
The frown had disappeared from West's face and instead had jumped over to Kimberly. She had heard a good amount of lame excuses in her professional life, and 'fertilizer experiment' was just bound to make the top ten list. Regarding West with an expression that radiated skepticism, Kim's gut feeling though told her that he was actually speaking the truth, odd as it may have sounded. And her gut feeling had rarely disappointed her in the past.
Her mind was working swiftly. Should she press the matter? She knew that it depended on her next words whether she would get any further useful information out of her client.
There was another piece of evidence that indicated West was not lying, she pondered. The fertilizer was so bad an excuse, West would for sure have come up with something better had he intended to lie.
She came to a decision.
"Well, Mr. West, I believe you."
"You do?" The botanist on the other hand found it hard to believe that he should be getting out of this so easily.
"Yeah, I do. As I said, I have a neck for telling if people are lying, and I feel that you're not lying." Also, she knew that sometimes a more gentle approach instead of pressure resulted in a more talkative client later on.
"Fertilizer, alright." She looked at the playback device that was still showing the ghostly night scene. "So you set up this contraption to feed fertilizer into the corn plant, and something went wrong?"
"Yes, exactly. As your invaluable journalistic skills have probably helped you find out, we're conducting similar experiments at other farms too. You see, the progressing desertification of the Earth constitutes a problem that we'll have to face sooner or later. The Survey thinks we should be prepared sooner rather than later and improve plant efficiency, since soil quality is bound to decrease with time."
Noticing the frown reappear on Kim's forehead, West added quickly, "But before you get any Pulitzer ideas, we're not there yet, not by far. Current quality levels are still more than adequate, we're just taking precautions here."
Which is, for all we know, actually true, West pondered. And he hoped that Kim's feeling would once more tell her that he was not lying.
And apparently it did. "Okay then, Mr. West. Thanks for your time. Oh, one more thing," she added as West was about to turn around towards his car, "I suppose that, if I were to ask you why you're doing this fertilizer experiment, you'd be forced to refuse statement?"
"Uhm, I was under the impression that I did tell you the reason?"
"You told me a reason, yes, but you didn't really tell me why."
West watched with an unnerved expression as Kim smiled, wished him a good day once more and walked away. It took him a while to gather himself and find the keys to his car in his pocket.
"Why, I like 'Alyx', sounds really nice," Sageman said, earning a happy smile from Lance. "Uhm, no badge for you?"
"Nah, I'm not on duty, got a day off. Just taking the monorail to the central lake."
"Ah, I like the lake. Fresh air and the nice woods. There was nothing like that at the CASE institute, where I worked before."
"You transferred over from CASE? Oh, you must have been lucky to get the position."
"Yep, I was indeed. I hear there were like two dozen applicants. Seems they badly needed a quantum physics nerd like me. Where're you working by the way?"
"Well, I'm in the..."
She was interrupted by the cabin's display screen which started showing colorful pictures and had its loudspeakers insistently demand the passengers' attention. "BnL is your superstore, we got all you need," it blurted out.
"Ugh," Alyx commented, shaking her head. "Tell us something we haven't heard a bazillion times already."
In a prompt yet coincidental response, the display continued by announcing the latest incredible bargain offers that were attainable at the local BnL store, but only for a short time of course.
Sageman chuckled a bit. "I suppose there's no place on this planet where you'd be safe from that."
"No kidding. As I was saying, I'm in the Feynman Computing Center. Responsible for that the scientists get their data when they need it and so on. You know, 'If all is fine, you're never met. If something breaks, they'll have your head.'"
"That sounds like it could be the global system administrators' mantra," Sageman grinned.
"Something like that. It sure helps you to keep your perspective. But don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I really like my job, especially in this fascinating place. What've you been doing at CASE before the transfer?"
"I worked in Astrometrics, researching 'extreme condition' areas in the universe, like black holes and galactic quasars. So to speak the large scale version of what we're doing here with those particle experiments."
"Mmh, sounds... intriguing. I guess. If I'd understand it."
Sageman chuckled again. "Yeah I get that a lot, but..."
Then it was his turn to be interrupted by the cabin's loudspeakers, though this time it was the rather euphonic voice of a female announcer which conveyed a way more useful information than the commercial had before.
"Now arriving at Site 38 Experimentation Labs. Before exiting the train, be sure to check your area for personal belongings. Thank you, and have a very safe and productive day."
"Well, I guess this is where you leave me," Alyx Lance said. "One day I'd like to see though what catastrophic accidents would happen here if they didn't have that friendly advice when you reach your workplace."
Sageman replied with a grin, as he was turning towards the exit door, "There's someone I know who's working at the Computing Center, maybe she's in for a little practical experiment?"
With slightly trembling fingers Alexander Trump pressed a contact plate on the door to Richard Wells' office, or rather to its antechamber. It always felt a little like a game of chance when being called to personally appear before the head of Forthright's personal advisors; it could mean a pleasant commendation, but also a serious reprimand.
A little chime sounded and the door slid open. Trump entered and was greeted by Wells' ever-friendly secretary.
"Good day, Mr. Trump. Mr. Wells is expecting you, you may go right in," she said, pointing to the door which led to the Chief Secretary's inner sanctum.
Trump nodded. A lump in his throat prevented him from uttering the polite reply he actually had in mind, so he just walked towards the door which opened automatically.
Inside the office, Trump's face became an even paler shade of white as he realized that, besides Wells, Barnaby Serkis was sitting there, mustering him as he approached the small conference table. This can't mean anything good, he pondered.
"Hello, Mr. Trump. Thanks for joining us on such short notice," Wells began. "Please, sit down. We have something of significant importance to discuss. But first let me emphasize that everything you're about to hear is to be considered top secret, do you understand?"
Trump nodded again, this time overcoming the lump and articulating a pressed "Yes, Sir."
"Very good," Serkis took over. "Mr. Trump, can you tell us what the current progress of Operation Cleanup is?"
Slightly confused, Trump pondered. The Chief Secretary surely had not requested a personal meeting just for a status report. "Uhm, it's going very well, with the Transducer technology we'll easily manage to complete the operation before the deadline."
"Good, good," Serkis replied. "But I need to tell you that in fact you are not going to meet your deadline."
"I'm sorry, Sir? All progress estimates show that by the end of the five year cruise all the trash will be cleaned up and processed into raw materials."
"That may be so, yet still you are not going to meet your deadline."
Wells smiled a little as he noticed the expression of increasing bewilderment on Trump's face. "You see, we need a reason why our cruise ships will possibly need to stay in space longer than assumed. And we came to the decision that an Operation Cleanup that's unfortunately not going perfectly according to plan is the best reason, in several respects."
"If I may ask, why would the ships need to stay in space longer than planned?"
"Yes, you may ask. You need to understand the whole extend of the problem we're facing. There is another crisis going on, Mr. Trump, a way more serious crisis than some heaps of trash in the streets.
Earth's food vegetation is decaying, for as of yet unknown reasons. First estimates show that our food reserves will last for about a year, and that's it. We're currently taking measures to prevent a catastrophe. Those measures though rely on a, let's say, quite wild plan, which has a probability for failure that's definitely larger than zero. And in case of failure, we need the cruise ships to stay in space."
Confusion had turned to alarm as Trump listened to Wells' explanations. A suspicion formed in him as to what Wells was aiming at. "And you need the ships to stay in space, because..."
"Because we need to give our race, our species, a chance to survive. Even if it is just the one percent of our population that is currently on those ships. If our endeavors to avert the food crisis fail, the cruise ships will become, for the second time in mankind's history, our Arks."
Even though Wells' words confirmed his suspicion, he still could not believe what he was hearing. He hoped intently that he had misunderstood. "But... but... Sir, you can't... actually be planning to..." he stammered.
Then he fell silent, horror-stricken. Looking into Wells' and then Serkis' face, he knew that he had not misunderstood.
The circle of initiates to Operation Shelby's Ark has just been expanded, Serkis pondered. And seeing Trump's appalled face, he hoped that they had made the right decision to inform him. He hoped that the circle would not eventually be growing beyond control.
Keith Sageman entered the lobby of the main building at Site 38. Christine Shore, who was sitting behind the receptionist's desk, greeted him heartily.
"Hello Gordon! Ready to start your third week?"
"Hi Chris! Yep, all set and ready," Sageman replied with a little smirk. For some reason, the receptionist seemed to like his second given name better than "Keith", in contrast to him, but he did not really mind. "I wasn't aware though that you're keeping record."
"Only for employees that I sufficiently like."
Mmh, the second woman today that seems to be fond of me, Sageman thought. Maybe he could find something more than just a new job on this campus.
He was about to pronounce a witty reply when a beeping noise emerged from his pocket. Sageman rolled his eyes and took out a mobile communication pad.
"Yeah, those things never leave you alone, hm?" Christine chuckled.
"Indeed they don't." The device showed a message from Cameron Preen, the leader of Sageman's research group, requesting that he join him in the Lambda Lab as soon as he could. "It's from Preen, and he made it sound very important. Nice talking to you, maybe we can meet later in the cafeteria?"
"Sure thing," the receptionist smiled and pressed a button that allowed Sageman to proceed through the security door.
A few minutes later the physicist was on his way to what was called the "Lambda Lab". It seemed a little odd that the largest lab in the building had been labeled with the eleventh letter in the Greek alphabet, but Sageman figured that the naming had to have historical reasons.
For several weeks now the Lambda Lab had been assigned to the Transducer Project, or rather to a particular sub-project. Its original intention had been the well-directed conversion of elements into one another using anti-gluon and anti-electromagnetic technology. They served to overcome both the binding and repelling forces between protons and neutron in atomic nuclei, thus inducing arbitrary nuclear fission, or fusion, at room temperature. Great care had been taken that no excess binding energy could escape during this process, which otherwise might have resulted in a catastrophic explosion.
Now there had been a new directive from the BnL Head Office. Apparently, the scientists at the CASE institute were in desperate need of a highly efficient power source, and the obvious path to follow had been to modify the transducer technology. Now it was their aim to allow small amounts of binding energy to escape during the matter conversion. Keeping this energy release under control though had proven to be even more difficult than making sure that no energy could escape at all.
Theoretical and practical working groups were collaborating closely to achieve results as quickly as possible. In the Lambda Lab, a small transducer device had been retrofitted into an experimental reactor, and the theory people had set up in the Delta Lab, brooding over simulation procedures to determine the correct operational parameters.
Approaching the large sliding doors to the Lambda Lab, Sageman could already hear the agitated voices of the scientists working inside. The doors opened automatically, and he found a crowd circling Cameron Preen and Jacob Ross assembled around a computer console.
"Simulation complete. Energy release estimated in excess of 3*10^21 J. Stability factor rated at 99.63%." the last line on the display screen read.
"Are you positively sure about these results? Ten to the power of 21 Joules?" Preen asked. "I mean, given your input parameters for conversion rate and duration, this energy release lies in the magnitude of nuclear fusion efficiency inside a star's core!"
"Yeah, I know, I couldn't believe it myself. So we repeated the simulation twice before coming here. To the best of our knowledge, the results are correct. My suggestion is to feed the parameters into the prototype reactor and keep our fingers crossed."
"I don't know, keeping fingers crossed sounds a little reckless, maybe..."
Ross interrupted his colleague with a chuckle. "Now what's this. The great 'power-up first, check the math later' Cameron is actually getting cold feet?"
"Hmph. And that from you, Mr. 'simulate until the sun goes white dwarf'. But I suppose you're right. Simulations will only get you so far."
At that moment, Preen finally noticed Sageman who had approached the crowd. "But before we flip the switch, I'd at least like Mr. Sageman, a new and quite competent member of my working group, to double-check the figures." Then he added towards Ross, "And, well, if he gives his okay, maybe we have him flip the switch, so if Fermilab goes up in smoke, it's at least not us who's to blame."
Kimberly Wells' fingers were trembling significantly less than Trump's had before, although she was about to press the doorbell button on the very same office door.
"Oh, hello Kimberly," she was greeted by the secretary. "I'm afraid Mr. Wells is having a private meeting at the moment. I can't let you in, but it shouldn't take too long. Please, have a seat."
"Hi! Thanks. It's okay, I'll wait here. Even if it takes the rest of the day."
"Quite determined to get this interview, huh?"
"You bet. The documentary is due tomorrow, and Richard is the only person left that I need to talk with. So no, I'm not leaving empty-handed this time."
"I can quite understand that. I'd ask him if I can let you in, but he explicitly told me to allow no interruptions." And she added, in a whisper, "I know I shouldn't talk to you about this, but it seems that important things are being discussed in there."
Kim chuckled. "Yeah, I can quite sense the aura of secrecy around this office even without that bit of information. But anyway, if you feel like divulging some more..."
"Good heavens, no, I rather not. You know what it means if they catch me babbling with the media." She moved the edge of her hand along her throat.
"Don't worry, I'm not gonna pressure you," Kim pacified her. She was not going to risk friendships for a story.
Voices could be heard from beyond the door to the Chief Secretary's office, and to her surprise, Kim could make out at least three individuals. Two of them seemed agitated, the third sounded rather obedient and insecure. Some nice chewing out must be in progress in there, she pondered. Poor guy, whoever it is.
At that moment, the door opened, and a thoroughly white-faced Alexander Trump appeared in its frame. A familiar voice, though not that of Richard Wells, could be heard from beyond the door which made him turn around again.
"Please remember, Mr. Trump, we shall inform you about the progress of Operation Homestead, and you will please adjust your course of action accordingly."
"Yes, Sir," said the figure in the door frame with a quavery voice.
"Thanks, that will be all for now," the voice from behind him said. Trump turned around. The expression on his face revealed that he was definitely not his usual self as he paced, barely noticing Kimberly and without another word, out of the antechamber.
"Alright, I'm not sure if I actually want to know what happened in there. And coming from me, that means a lot," Kimberly remarked apprehensively.
"Yes, well, anyway," the secretary muttered, "I suppose Mr. Wells is available now." Looking into the journalist's eyes, she added, "Good luck, Kimberly!"
Kim nodded, and as she walked towards the still open door, she wondered if she actually needed good luck.
It had taken Keith Sageman several seconds, a period of significantly increased heartbeat and a good amount of transpiration before he had noticed the broad grin on Preen's face. After the compulsory "don't you ever do this again", he had checked up on the simulation data. An excited nod and a "thumbs up" later, they had moved on to put their theoretical results into praxis.
They were assembled around an experimentation setup in the Lambda Lab, consisting of a large table and a rack which housed, among multiple control and support instruments, the modified transducer. The device was glowing in a blue, beautifully pulsing light, and on the table sat an array of incandescent light bulbs.
Anyone who was not aware of the moment's significance would probably have been quite puzzled to watch a group of highly qualified scientists, staring at a number of illuminated objects which constituted an invention from over 200 years ago.
"Where the heck did you get those bulbs, Cameron?" Jacob Ross asked. "I thought incandescents have been banned for like a hundred years?"
"They have indeed. But we always keep an amount of those in storage. For tests like this here, there's no better ohmic resistor that even gives off a visible confirmation of electricity flowing through it."
That confirmation was very visible indeed. The brightly glaring bulbs were powered by the transducer, and Sageman, who was checking up on the diagnostic messages printed out by a nearby computer console, was visibly excited about the efficiency of their prototype.
The transducer was configured to fuse nitrogen atoms, of which there were more than enough present in the air, into silicium. They had chosen the device's parameters so that the binding energy was released in form of infrared photons, or, in layman's terms, as heat.
Connected to the transducer was a sophisticated energy converter which was able to transform the heat directly into electricity, with an efficiency of over 99 percent. A part of that electricity was used to power the whole apparatus itself, the rest went into the light bulbs. Therefore, as long as there was sufficient nitrogen present, they possessed a virtually inexhaustible energy source.
"Analysis shows a mass loss rate of one per mil for the nitrogen during fusion," Sageman reported. "That's what the calculations had shown, and it actually seems to work. This is so amazing! This is the famous 'E equals m c squared' in its full splendor, right here on our lab table."
Wayne Tannon was watching over several readouts that informed him about the transduction process. "Nitrogen intake is stable at 0.01 micrograms per second. Energy output relation is stable too, and just high enough to power those bulbs and the apparatus. The self-regulation circuit is working perfectly so far. Keep your fingers crossed, people, but it seems there'll be no going up in smoke for Fermilab today."
"Good for me," Sageman mumbled with a little grin.
"Truly amazing," Ross agreed. "But before we open the champagne, we should do some more tests with the self-regulation. Mr. Tannon, can you please schedule a series?"
"Yes, will do it right away. Allow me one question though," Tannon wondered as he looked at the transducer. "What's with the blue light?"
"Oh, good day, Kimberly, I was not aware that you had an appointment with Mr. Wells today."
"Barnaby?" Kim was a little surprised, though only for a moment, to find Serkis in the office. Then she sneered. "Yes, of course. I should have known that Richard alone couldn't manage to cause that shade of pale I saw on Trump's face. What on Earth did you do to the poor man? Oh and no, I don't have an appointment." She turned around to look at Wells. "I'm just hoping that Richard will see me anyway?"
Wells grinned back at Kimberly. "Well my dear, you just got to be the most obtrusive journalist on the face of this planet. Actually we didn't do anything to Trump, aside from passing on some information."
"That really must've been some information. I hope you'll give me a bit of that too? Cause to be a good journalist, it helps a lot to be obtrusive. Also, remember that it was your bunch here that ordered the documentary in the first place."
"Yes Kim, I know. I'll tell you all you need to know."
"I suppose I shall leave you two alone then?" Serkis wondered.
"No," Kim interjected, "it might be nice to hear some of your opinions too, Barnaby, after all you've been with BnL nearly as long as Richard."
Then she looked at Wells again. "But I got one unrelated question before we start. At least I suppose it is unrelated. Dad, my dear, what is Operation Homestead?"
Looking into Preen's and Ross' faces, Sageman knew that the two scientists were at a loss, which made him feel somewhat uneasy.
"Yes, the blue light. It's pretty, isn't it?' Preen joked. "In fact, the actual reason for this effect still eludes us. Our best guess is that it's some kind of radiation that gets transformed into visible light during the transduction process. No worries, there's no danger, otherwise our radiation detectors would go off immediately."
"Hmm. It's quite pretty indeed,' Sageman mused. "Kinda reminds me of the visual effect that high-energy particles cause when they interact with molecules in the upper atmosphere. Like an aurora, but with a different wavelength and dispersion pattern."
"Yeah, you're right, actually there is a similarity. It's also noteworthy that the light only occurs when the transduction chamber is evacuated, as it's the case right now. We'll definitely conduct further research about this, but you know, our timetable's already packed quite full."
"No kidding. When did the BnL guys want to see a first working reactor prototype?"
"By the end of this week, if we can make it," Preen griped. "They said it's okay if we need another week, but I can already hear them ranting if we actually do."
"Damn, it's always the same when working for the government. Why can't they just let us do our job without meddling all the time."
A sudden loud popping noise from the lab table made them all jump. Sageman spun around and saw that one of the light bulbs had burst. "Oh crap," he uttered.
Preen looked around hurriedly. "Wayne, quickly, check the energy monitors. Keith, get ready to shut the thing down."
While a burst light bulb normally did not constitute any noteworthy danger, it possibly did in this case, since the bulbs were all connected in parallel to the Transducer's output. If one of them failed, the device would produce more power than was consumed, possibly leading to a feedback of energy and finally an overload building up in the circuits.
"I'm on it," Tannon replied and dashed over to the readout displays, just as a low warning noise commenced. "Output flow reception is reduced by 100 Watts, that's just the amount the defective bulb had consumed. Power accumulation is building up at the converter input, temperature is rising. Feedback circuits are operational and trying to regulate the flow."
"I'm ready to pull the plug," Sageman announced a little nervously, his hand hovering over a large and prominent red button.
"Wait!" Ross exclaimed. "Just give it a few seconds, give the regulator a chance to prove if it's working."
The mentioned seconds passed while the warning noise stayed constant. A tense silence settled down on the group of scientists, only interrupted by the humming of the devices in the room. Everyone was staring at different display screens.
"Temperature in the reaction chamber still rising. It's approaching upper safety limits."
Sageman's hand lowered slightly, ready to smash down on the emergency shutdown. Little beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. If the regulator was not able to control the reaction, the transduction field would undergo what they had called an uncontrolled Expansion Feedback Loop during their simulations. The field would grow, feeding itself with more and more energy, and eventually transgress the boundaries of the containment chamber.
Whenever that had happened, the simulation had been aborted with the succinct comment "Scenario failed due to unforeseeable consequences". And Sageman was not overly eager to learn what those consequences might actually be.
Then, as Ross was about to give the abort command, Tannon spoke up in a tone of relief. "Regulation is working. The Transducer's reaction rate is being reduced to accommodate the changed energy requirement."
"Yeah, I confirm that. My display shows a decreasing rate of mass transformation."
"Phew," Preen said as the short but intense moment had passed. "Despite being the gung-ho practitioner here, I'm usually not overly fond of finding out the hard way whether vital energy flow regulators are working."
"Temperature is decreasing slowly," Tannon reported. "It did work indeed, but we'll need a much more efficient way of feedback regulation. We can assume that in a real-world application, energy consumption will fluctuate a lot more than here with some bust light bulbs."
"I agree," Preen said. "We'll squeeze that into our timetable. I also guess we just witnessed the real reason why incandescent bulbs were banned in the first place."
Richard Wells could not decide whether to frown or to smile. "Barnaby, remind me to have not only my office, but also the antechamber locked next time."
"It's too late, dad, and you know it," Kimberly interjected with a grin before Serkis could reply.
Richard sighed. "I sure do. Operation Homestead is just a little BnL project we're currently working on, but be assured, it's nothing of sufficient importance as to open your evening news with it."
Kim knew that her father was one of the few people who were able to dodge both her questions and her ability to detect lies. Looking at him, she could read in his face that he was quite determined to not answer any further questions concerning Operation Homestead at the moment, and she knew that it would not make any sense to try and pressure him about it. "You do know how to deal with journalists, don't you?" she smiled.
"Yes I do, and it would seem that those journalists I hold most dear always give me the hardest possible time," Richard replied, throwing Kimberly a caring glance. "Well then, what is it that you need to know from me for your documentary?"
Kimberly produced a datapad and prepared it to take notes. "I'm as good as done, but I still need some background information on Operation Cleanup. First, can you tell me what its current progress is? Trump didn't seem exactly relaxed when he left just before."
"Oh, you know, it always creeps people out to have an 'audience with the inner circle'. Between his trembles and anxiety, he reported that Operation Cleanup is running perfectly as scheduled." His voice took on an undertone like that of a salesperson as he continued, "The cities where the trash situation is worst have gotten the highest priority in terms of WALL-E unit and Transducer assignment. Soon we will have our cities back, good as new."
"Yeah, I see, good work there with saving the Earth, Dad," Kim chuckled. She had stopped taking notes in the middle of Richard's little speech. She knew that his way of talking with her like a BnL official might talk with a customer was a result of what one might call his 'professional deformation'. It did not overly disturb her anymore, though she could not resist making that little joke.
She gazed at Serkis as she continued, "Barnaby? Anything to add from your view?"
"Nothing of relevance. Your father is right, everything's going according to the CEO's plan."
"Okay, thanks," Kim said with a trace of doubt in her voice. "Speaking about the CEO, might it be possible to get a quick interview with Shelby himself? Or is he, as usual, way too busy?"
"I'm sorry, I'm afraid he is," Richard apologized, feeling a little uneasy. "You know, stressful times, a lot on his mind. It's been a long time that I myself have seen him in person. What we need to discuss, we do via video conference."
Kim glanced at her father. She had noticed the little sign of uncertainty, which she found odd, since it happened very rarely, and her question had not really been one to get anxious about. Taking some notes, she decided to not dwell on it for now, but to save it as a possible trump card for later.
"Okay then, another question. We know that the unification of government and commerce was done to face the trash crisis, but what are BnL's plans for the future? Is the former version of political government going to be re-established? Meaning, will BnL give up at least part of its ultimate power, to put the voter back in control?"
Richard was baffled at the question. He had actually never thought about this matter; he somehow had silently assumed that BnL's temporary rule would sooner or later become permanent. Also, he pondered, if push came to shove with Operation Shelby's Ark, there would be barely anything left on the Earth worth ruling over.
"This kind of thing is within the competence of the CEO alone, Kim, you know that. We can advise him what the best course of action might be, but ultimately, it's not up to either of us to decide. So I must refrain from making any statement..."
"Come on, dad," Kimberly interrupted with a trace of impatience in her voice. "It's me you're talking to. I'm not looking for an official statement from BnL, just tell me what you think would be the right thing to do."
"I'm not talking with my daughter at the moment, but with a journalist," Richard responded in a calm but firm tone. "If I tell you my opinion, and you're going to use it in your documentary, it is an official statement. My responsibilities here towards the CEO and all the people under BnL's supervision don't allow for such a thing, please understand that."
"Yes, yes, you're right, I'm sorry," she acknowledged. But with the phrasing 'people under BnL's supervision' you maybe gave me an even better trigger for my story, she pondered. "I just figured an outlook on the future might be a nice ending for the documentary. But I suppose I'll come up with something else worthwhile."
"As long as you don't invent something that might pass off as not completely unrealistic," Serkis commented, laughing. "Which is, rumor has it, what you journalists often resort to?"
"Yes, Barnaby, in fact I might. I'd rather write the truth though, if those who possess it just threw me a bone," Kim answered with a slightly aggressive glance towards Serkis. "But don't worry, the work is going to be finished one way or another. As I said, I'll come up with something, maybe a paragraph or two on how BnL is going to cope with the new situation concerning food production."
"Well, that was a close shave, if there ever was one."
After the rather breathtaking generator experiment, Sageman and Tannon were having a relaxing stroll in the garden behind Site 38's main building, trying to catch the breath they had lost.
"A close shave?" Tannon asked. "That wasn't a close shave. You should have been here when we were analyzing those odd stony remainders of that meteorite last year. That was a close shave."
"Uh-huh," Sageman mumbled and figured that he was not really eager to hear details about even closer shaves at the moment. Still he could not refrain from making a comment. "Lemme guess. You came about 2 nanometers from imploding our planet into a black hole?"
"Naah, that was about a century ago, when those poor jerks played with their particle accelerators and smashed things together that rather should stay safely apart."
"Right, I've heard about that. How did Ross put it? 'Power-up first, check the math later'?"
"Very much so. Problem back then was that they didn't really have any math, much less an idea, about what they were doing. They were rather like kids in a sandbox, eager to see what happens when they quantumize-this, hadron-collide that. Said sandbox of course spanned the whole Earth."
"Well, good for us all then that they failed, I guess."
"Indeed, though they can't really take credit for that. They merely got lucky. You know, when they were about to fire up that enormous collider in Central Europe, it was thanks to their rather sub-standard construction work that their liquid helium cooling system leaked. They had to shut the whole thing down before they could do any actual experiments. Luckily, before they managed to fix it, some smart guys actually did figure out the math on what they were about to do, and they pulled the plug just in time. Otherwise the Earth would now be, well, matchbox-sized."
"And telling me all this is supposed to reduce my current stress level how?"
Tannon chuckled. "Well, it's rather supposed to get you an idea of what you've gotten yourself into when you transferred over here from CASE."
"Yeah, actually I'm beginning to question my decision already," Sageman grinned. "By the way, you seem to know quite a bit about the events back then."
"History of Quantum Physics is kind of a hobby-horse of mine. I'm always hoping that it might serve us well some day, not repeating past mistakes. Though that generator test today kinda has taught me differently. Anyway, what's going on at CASE at the moment? As luck would have it, robotics is another of those hobby-horses."
Richard and Barnaby felt as if their blood had been quick-frozen. Was she just speculating, or did she actually know about the food crisis? If she did, they would have a major disaster on their hands, Richard thought. But if not, they needed to play it down as not to give her any confirmation that she unwittingly was onto something. Resorting to his ability to act both surprised and amused, he asked "Food production? Is there any situation I should be aware of while you shouldn't?"
"If there was, you sure wouldn't be the first person I'd tell," Kim smirked. "No, I was talking about the climatic changes in the last century. You know, the reasons why we have a centralized food production system now. Few huge farms now compared to countless little ones before."
The two men started breathing again, while Kim luckily did not notice that they had stopped doing so in the first place. "But you don't need us to tell you anything about that, Kim. You can find information on that in every history book," Richard commented, doing his best to mask his feeling of relief.
"Yeah sure, I know. I mentioned it cause I was hoping that you'll maybe tell me something about Operation Homestead. Judging by the name it sounds like it might be relevant. And since you said it's nothing of sufficient importance, you might as well tell me a bit about it, so I have something to work on. After all, BnL has always been one for telling names. I mean, Operation Cleanup, Operation Repopulate, Operation Global T..."
"Yes, dear, I get the point," Richard interrupted. Looking at Serkis he noticed that his co-advisor was only apparently calm. Damn it, Richard thought. Once more he had forgotten his intention not to underestimate his daughter's cleverness anymore. Like father, like daughter, he thought, a little smile crossing his face.
"Kim, you know that some of BnL's operations need to be carried out off the public record, even if they are of no real importance. It's a matter of sensible information leaking out and exposing our employees to potential security risks. There are always those who might try to subvert our work."
Kim's voice had adopted a distinct undertone of irony. "You're right, I can see that you're taking a huge effort to employ security measures, having put the country's farms under top secret investigation and armed posts placed at their entrances. Strange though, what kind of incursion are you expecting to occur at a farm?"
Richard could feel the situation slowly slip out of control. Kim was like a tracking dog when it came to detecting lies, and he was quite confident that she knew more than she was showing. Calling forth all of his skills and everything he had learned and experienced about deceiving people in his days in office, he started improvising.
"Alright, Kim, let me explain. Operation Homestead requires this kind of measures, so that people don't jump to the wrong conclusions about what we're doing there. As you know, the farms are located in certain areas that are somewhat sheltered from the elements. As the climate grows worse, they're inevitably gonna be reduced in dimensions. Initially they were able to provide nourishment for the seriously diminished population without any problems. But it's obvious that, given some time, population numbers will rise again, thus leading to a potential under-supply.
"We haven't reached that point yet, but the researchers at the Agricultural Survey have been trying for a while already to locate other regions in which cultivation would be sustainable. But it'll need time, since there are very few suitable spot, and the necessary infrastructure needs to be set up first.
"So they started a secondary project for a medium-term solution. They're trying to increase the level of plant productivity by using experimental fertilizers. Their application though must be carefully regulated as to avoid side-effects for the plants and whoever is going to eat them. This is why we need some secrecy. You know how quick people are with misjudging everything BnL does; and now imagine information leaked out about us conducting experiments on their food, which isn't really true anyway."
Kim sized her father up with an intense stare. She was not exactly sure whether he was making the whole story up, but it mostly made sense, and the part about the fertilizer experiments matched that which Thomas West had told her. The reason was different, though, but she figured that none of them would be telling her the whole truth right away.
"Okay, dad, I understand. I'll do my best then to not be one of those who misjudge everything, and I'll finish my report by stressing that BnL is doing its best to keep us well-fed." She got up from her chair and put her datapad away. "Thanks for the time, dad! Barnaby. Have a nice day!"
"You're welcome, dear. Hope to see you soon," Richard said as Kim turned around and left the office.
"Do you think she believed you, Richard?" Serkis asked.
"Probably not. But at least we have some time now to come up with an actually convincing cover story. Barnaby, as much as I hate saying this, it would be safer for us if someone was checking up on what she'll be doing. Cautiously though; after all, she is my daughter."
"They made you do what?" Tannon laughed.
"Yeah, I'm not kidding here. Robert Springs, one of the guys at BnL responsible for the wellness sections on their space cruisers, actually requested us to build a hairdresser robot model for their ships. A hairdresser! I mean, we're preparing to send probes to other planets, and they want us to build a thing with scissors and combs and stuff. I was like 'No way!', but he was dead serious. That was actually one of the reasons why I quit there."
"I can really imagine. A hairdresser robot. Coming to think of it, it's hilarious, at least if you don't have to build it yourself."
"It quite is," Sageman chuckled. "And have a guess what they were going to name the model."
"I have no idea. But maybe, during beta testing, they might have called it BRB-R? As in, 'you hair will Be Right Back, Rob'?"
Sageman laughed heartily. "Good call, Wayne. No, actually it's named PR-T. Can you imagine that? PR-T. Good lords. And we had to program their voice boxes with just two statements. 'Just a trim?' and 'You look gorgeous!'. I was so tempted to add a third line, 'I suggest you stay away from mirrors for the next three weeks.' You know, if I was one of those poor robots, I'd probably volunteer as a test subject for the 'escape pods' they're experimenting with for the cruisers."
"I'm right with you there, Keith," Tannon agreed, taking a look at his watch. "Shall we go back in and check up on the generator?"
"Yeah, I suppose I'm sufficiently cooled down now, and so should be the reaction chamber."
As they were strolling along the walkway back to the lab building, a tall, slender, middle-aged man carrying a suitcase approached them. As he stepped past the two scientists, he greeted. "Good morning, Mr. Sageman, Mr. Tannon."
Sageman turned around and looked after him. "Any idea who that was, Wayne?" he asked.
"Not really. I've seen him a few times before. I think he's one of the lawyers BnL's legal department has dispatched in case we get sued for our experiments."
"Oh hell... being charged with imploding the Earth. Now that should make a worthwhile fine. It's odd that he knew us. Well, if he's a lawyer, that's probably part of his job."
"Yeah, that suitcase of his is surely full of files, and not just about us."
As they strolled towards the rear entrance of the lab building, Tannon added, "Whoever he is, his short haircut and pale face look like he's had a close encounter with one of your PR-T robots. That blue suit is quite becoming to him though."
Two days later, Kimberly Wells sat down wearily on the couch in her apartment and turned on the TV. Actually she had planned to watch the premiere broadcast of her documentary together with the news crew, but after having worked with the editors through the previous two nights, she would be lucky if she managed to watch it at home without falling asleep.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the BNN History Channel invites you to a special documentary made exclusively by our Kimberly Wells. You're about to learn the amazing story of Buy and Large - A Rise to Power."
"There we go," Kimberly muttered to herself, a little proud smile showing on her face.
"B-n-L is your superstore," the omnipresent jingle rang from the TV. "We got all you need..."
"I'm sure you do, but right now I don't need anything, even if that's hard to believe. So cut it out already," Kimberly griped.
"...and so much more." Listening to the umpteenth repetition of the Buy-and-Large jingle with heavy eyelids, Kimberly wondered if it always had the somniferous effect that she was experiencing at the moment, or if it was just her overwhelming sleepiness.
"Happiness is what we sell..." Kimberly rolled her eyes. She would be happy enough already if the damn documentary just started.
"...that's why everyone loves B-n-L!" Kim barely noticed anymore that the open-to-closed ratio of her eyes was shifting more and more to the latter. Before the TV show actually started, she had drifted off and entered a realm where she would be creating her own personal fantastic stories.
"Whoa, what was that?" the technician Mike Shea exclaimed as the electrical supply readout he was watching showed a sudden spike in power levels. He and his colleague were doing their shift in the utility room of the Los Angeles CASE outpost.
"Hmm, looked like a power surge. Was surely once again someone who connected a device that can't decide if it wants to draw power or not."
"Indeed, could be. I've heard that McCrow and his team are conducting some experiment with the new probe model's hibernation function. Maybe we should check out if they're okay?"
"Yeah, you go check it out, I'll hold the fort here."
"Will do," Shea said and got up from his chair, heading for the door.
"Now arriving at the Fermilab Central Lake. Before exiting the train, be sure to check your area for personal belongings. Thank you, and have a very recreational day!"
You bet I will, Christine Shore grinned as she disembarked the transport cabin. She headed down a small path that led away from the monorail track and took her to the lake's waterside.
The largest lake on the Fermilab complex was located in the center of a circular area which was about two kilometers in diameter. In former times it had housed a subterranean particle accelerator ring. The times of accelerator experiments though had long since passed, so the location was now a large recreational area, with meadows, woods and several expanses of water.
Christine's favorite spot for relaxation was a group of benches close to the lake, where she enjoyed the quiet and the fresh air. As she arrived at that spot, she found one of the benches already occupied.
"Oh, hi there, Alyx! Great to see you here, got a day off too?"
"Hey Chris!" the system administrator replied joyously. "Half a day actually. Need to be back at the Center in an hour. Still got lots of user accounts to manage. Come, sit down."
"Stressful times for you too, eh? Site 38's also busier than an anthill at the moment, with all the hassle about that new power generator. Have you heard about it?"
Lance nodded. "It's the topic talk of the day in the Center too. I don't understand most of the tech part, but it seems like fascinating stuff."
"It sure is. Been a while that I last saw my colleagues so excited. But aside from work, how's life going? Still on the lookout for a male companion?"
"In fact, yeah, I am," Alyx chuckled. "There're quite some candidates around here, but it's a little hard to find the time even for some basic flirt."
"Tell me about it. There's a new physicist at my Site, Gordon Sageman, he seems very nice."
"Yeah, I agree. I met him on the train recently." Alyx looked at her friend. "Do I sense some competition arising there?"
Christine looked back at Alyx with a grin. "Well, we'll see about that. But if push comes to shove, I bet your user account management tool won't be any match for my gluon gun!"
As Mike Shea entered the CASE engineering lab, he found something that he considered a distinctly deviant scenario. Jeremy Stone, the lead engineer, and a number of his colleagues were assembled in a half-circle around an odd couple: The head roboticist McCrow was standing there, holding a white probe robot's fin-shaped arm appendages in his hands, and looked deeply into her blue, curious eyes. With a skeptical expression on his face, Shea stepped forward.
"Ahem. Excuse me please, I'm sorry if I'm interrupting the vows here, but we registered a power level spike in the electrical system. And... well, actually I wanted to ask if everything's okay in here..." He looked at the joined human and robot hands as he added, "From a technological point of view, that is."
Both McCrow and EVE turned around and looked at the technician, then down at their hands. McCrow started to chuckle, while EVE raised up one arm and propped it against her imaginary mouth, her eyes showing an amused expression.
"Nah, Mr. Shea, no worries. We weren't planning to get married. Although, given the recent development, EVE here might indeed one day do so, if she finds the right robot." The white probe's eyes showed a little embarrassment as McCrow continued, "The power surge you registered was also part of said development."
"Oh.. okay? What happened?"
"It's too long a story to tell in a few sentences, but the result nevertheless is that good old Darwin's list has just been expanded. EVE is the first individual of a new species, the Automato sapiens."
"She is?" Shea's voice sounded utterly incredulous as he turned to the robot. "I mean, you are?"
EVE looked back at the technician, her sparkling blue eyes showing a calm but lucid elation. She nodded gently. "I'm alive," came her warbling voice.
Alyx half-frowned and half-chuckled. "Gluon gun? What's that supposed to be?"
"I've heard that they're planning to conduct a little side-project to turn the new power generation method into a weapon."
"Hmph. Lemme guess, that rubbish must come from the BnL military guys."
"I suppose it does. Anyway, we'll sure reach some kind of agreement concerning Gordon."
"Sure thing. Nothing a good old mud wrestling match wouldn't settle."
They were both still laughing heartily when they suddenly heard a soft whirring noise. Sounding like a swarm of bumblebees, but more mechanical in nature, it was coming from the nearby tree line just across a meadow. It started out barely noticeable and slowly became louder.
Chris looked up. "Do you hear that too?"
"Yeah, it's coming from the trees. Sounds strange."
"Reminds me of someone playing with a remote-controlled airplane or so."
They looked intently in the direction where the noise was coming from. Then they could make out multiple little flying objects approaching them.
"What the..." Alyx muttered. The two women spotted four small, white, oval-shaped somethings flying through the air which quickly came closer.
As they whizzed past, Chris and Alyx recognized that they were little airborne robots, about 15 centimeters in length. Three appendages were making up a head and two fin-shaped arms, with a small black spot decorating the head part.
It only lasted for a few seconds, then the flying objects had disappeared from their sight. They looked at each other, an incredulous yet amused expression on their faces.
"Okay. Either I'm hallucinating, or I just saw four egg-shaped robots fly past. Please tell me you saw them too."
"I did see them too," Alyx responded. "And I too am wondering what they were. I've never seen that type of robot model before, have you?"
"Nope, not that I remember. I think I've recently heard someone talk about an egg-shaped model, but that's all."
While Chris was still talking, the whirring noise suddenly made itself heard again, from the direction where the four robots had disappeared.
"Listen, seems they're coming back!"
"Yeah," Chris said and gazed, "But I can see only one spot this time."
"Shh, Trevis, get this thing out of here!" a camera operator hissed.
"Oh damn, I'm sorry, forgot to turn it off," Harry Trevis muttered, silenced the beeping alarm of his communication device and quickly dashed out of the newscasting studio. A red flashing sign above its door declared that a news show was currently "On Air".
Trevis accepted the incoming call. "Yeah, what is it?"
"Mr. Trevis, this is Mike Shea from the L.A. CASE base. I've been trying to reach Miss Wells, but she's not answering my calls."
"Yeah, she went home early today, she's had two nights packed full of work. Can I help you maybe?"
"I suppose you can. You see, Kimberly has helped me out of some serious snag before, and I've promised that I'd repay her with a nice story should the opportunity arise."
"Sounds good! So did it arise?"
"Oh hell yes, you bet it did!"
Indeed it was only one of the little robots that came dashing back, but instead of zipping past the two astonished scientists, it slowed down and came to a halt, hovering just in front of them.
Now that they could take a closer look at it, they noticed that the black spot on its head was in fact a tiny display screen. It showed two blue ovals, as if the robot was looking at them with curious eyes.
"Aww, this thing is cute! I wonder where it came from," Alyx said.
Chris smiled. "Yeah, really cute. Look, its appendages are held in place by forcefields! And it's got a gravitic drive, look at it bobbing up and down. This is very advanced tech, way too sophisticated to be a stray toy or something."
"Hmm," Alyx muttered and raised her arm, approaching the robot with her hand. She brushed over the front side of its white shell with a finger, then carefully lifted up one of the tiny fin-like arms. The robot wiggled a bit, and the eye display momentarily changed its shape to something that resembled a smile. A giggling noise, modulated in a warbling female voice, emanated from it.
"It's reacting," Chris beamed, "And it's got a speech synthesizer."
"Yeah, and if I'm not mistaken, she just giggled," Alyx acknowledged, unable to stifle a little chuckle herself.
"What's your designation and directive?" Chris asked the little robot.
Her eye display flickered, confirming that she was processing the input. "Designation: Daryl. Directive: Follow flight pattern," the warbling voice announced.
"The lido deck is now closing. The lido deck is now closing."
With a few strokes, Jennifer Ivy completed the last lane of her relaxing swim. After the very successful presentation of the autopilot robot model design, she had earned herself a one-week holiday trip on one of the more luxurious BnL starliners, the Infinity. Infinite fun for less than infinite money, the commercials had said. And so far, Jennifer's expectations had been more than fulfilled, especially because she did not have to pay any money for it.
She climbed out of the pool and walked to her canvas chair. Just as she reached it and settled down for a little nap before the ever-annoying "no splashing, no diving" bot would complement her out, she heard a beeping noise emanating from her sports bag. With an annoyed grunt she reached into it and produced a small communication device.
There she was, half across the solar system, and still not safe from her workplace, she pondered as the display told her who was calling.
"Mike, if this is anything short of a catastrophe, I'm gonna hang right up again."
"Hey Jenny. Not exactly a catastrophe, but I'm quite sure you'll still want to hear it. You know, there's that plant evaluator model you designed the chassis for, right?"
A little uneasiness made itself felt. "Uh-oh, what happened to her? Don't tell me they trashed her, like that out-of-control massage bot? I can still hear Mendez' rant when he found his hovercar..."
"Nono, nothing like that. On the contrary. She's received a promotion. So to speak the highest promotion a robot can ever hope for."
"Mike, if you don't want me to strangle you right through this hyperspace connection, you're gonna tell me..."
"Hey hey now, calm down, Jenny," Michelson chuckled. "What will your little white baby think of her godmother?"
As Michelson continued his explanation, Jennifer wondered if the Captain might turn the ship around right away if she were to ask really nicely.
"Daryl, hm? Interesting choice, a male name for a female voice," Alyx wondered.
"Yeah, sounds a little strange, but I think I've seen Daryl as a female name too. Anyway, it quite fits. So, Daryl, your sole directive is to follow a preset flight pattern?"
The little robot nodded.
"Odd, why would anyone build such an advanced model and give it no task but to fly around?"
"Yeah, and even more so," Chris comtemplated, "fly around on the Fermilab campus. Daryl, why did you leave your sisters and come back to us?"
The robot's eyes took on a sad expression. "Lost," she trilled.
"Lost? You mean you lost your companions?"
Daryl shook her head. "Daryl lost. Path incorrect."
"Hmm. Her flight pattern must have been misprogrammed, and she can't find the way back home," Alyx pondered.
The little robot nodded several times.
"Really odd. Daryl, do you know where your flight path originated?"
"Site Thirty-Nine."
"Site 39 here on the Fermilab campus?" Alyx turned to Chris. "That's right in the neighborhood of your workplace, isn't it?"
"Yeah, correct, I know its location. It's just across the road that runs past our main labs building."
At those words, Daryl looked up, hopefulness showing in her eyes. Then she stretched out her tiny fins towards Christine. "Take Daryl home?" came her trilling voice, intensified by a pleading eye pattern.
Richard Wells was brooding over some paperwork in his office when his intercom announced an incoming voice transmission. He looked up and pressed a button.
"Wells here, hello Mr. Peterson."
"Good day Sir, please excuse the interruption. I just received a message from Mr. Derring. There has been a certain development concerning the plant evaluation robot that the CASE engineers are building."
"Yes? What is it?"
"Sir, I suggest a personal meeting with the Operation Homestead managers. It is possible that we have a situation on our hands."
A noisy commotion at her apartment door woke Kimberly from her sleep, albeit not right away. With drowsy eyes she got up, only half-aware of where she was, and stumbled towards the door.
"Kim, quickly, freshen up, pack your things and come on down. We need to get to the L.A. CASE base right away!"
"Trevis, what the heck? I'm dead tired here, what's all this about?"
"You remember the white probe robot you did that fascinating interview with? The one that made you play hide-and-seek?"
"Of course, how could I forget her. Such an adorable thing."
"Yeah, that's exactly the point. According to a CASE technician I've gotten off the phone with just ten minutes ago, she's not a thing anymore."
Kim's eyes widened. From one moment to the next, all of her sleepiness had vanished. "What do you mean? Are you saying that..."
Trevis moved his hand through the air in a half-circle, as if presenting an imaginary headline that was printed there. "Robot attains sentience. Is science allowed to tamper with nature's creation?"
Ten seconds later, Kim had disappeared in the bathroom.
"Aww, poor sweetie," Chris smiled and carefully tickled the little robot's arms with a fingertip, earning a joyous trill in reply.
"If I recall correctly, there's an old model airplane field at Site 39. Maybe Daryl was sent out by one of your colleagues with a funny but somewhat boyish hobby?"
The scientist giggled. "I wouldn't put it past them. They can still be boys alright." Looking at the little robot who was watching them curiously, she added, "Just their toys have become way more expensive."
"Okay, little girl, hop on. We'll see if we can find whoever it is that needs a lesson in orientation and navigation."
Alyx held out her arm in a pose one might use to invite a trained bird to land. The robot smiled happily and hovered forward, then clinged onto the arm with her tiny fins.
As they set off along the path to the monorail stop, Chris wondered why Daryl had been the only one of the four robots that had come back to them to ask for help.
Author's Notes
Many thanks to Unreal.2K7 for ideas, brainstorming, proofreading and contributing some chapters!
Some explanation about the episode's title:
"Expansions" refers to the "Expansion Feedback Loop" the transduction field in the generator might have undergone, the expansion of Operation Homestead's inner circle, and the expansion of Darwin's list by "Automato sapiens".
"Miniatures" of course refers to the four cute "mini-EVEs".
The episode introduced three characters that are "modelled" after users of the WALL-E Forum. Wayne Tannon is "Wayne", Keith G. Sageman is "Level_Head", and Christine Shore is "Cri86".
The Mini-EVE character Daryl was inspired by "Eppie", a tiny EVE-shaped robot that appears in a little comic series made by "Gryphonworks".