“There will be. Not-I.”
Two hours later, Martin opened his eyes. His heart was racing, and he was scared. I hope that was no dream, he thought, and then he was relieved that he could remember every little detail. Should I tell Francesca what I experienced? What had it actually been—a conversation, true communication? Or have I only misinterpreted it based on my own hopes?
He was no good as a storyteller, as he could see from Francesca’s face when he reported this to her. He had a hard time finding adequate words for the images appearing in his mind. Yet Francesca’s skeptical, slightly bored look soon turned to definite fascination. She stopped drumming her fingers on the desk. She made him repeat what the being had said—and developed her own interpretations.
“That was an invitation for us,” she finally said. “The being believes it can integrate our consciousness into its own. That is… overwhelming. Imagine if we could profit from millions of years of experience. Maybe this being has already figured out all the laws of nature? It certainly had the time and the capability for it. Consider how young humanity is compared to it.”
“Do you think this is more than just an idea?” Martin asked. “This being does not know the chemistry of our brains at all. It has been alone for millions of years. What if it only wants us to stay?”
“Maybe we should give it a try,” Francesca answered.
“I can’t believe you are serious about this. Do you suddenly no longer want to go back home again?”
The pilot lowered her eyes.
“I… know. This is probably not more than wishful thinking. It just seems to me our chance of making it through the ice is much lower than the probability of this dream becoming reality.”
Age of Questions, Heptahedron
There is:
The I.
The not-I.
The fear.
The loss. The I must not let the not-I leave.
The worry.
The numbers. The existence of many.
The others.
The curiosity.
The limitless knowledge.
The exploration of the not-all.
There will be:
The not-I.
There must be:
The not-I.
December 24, 2046, Valkyrie
The abyss yawned above them. Francesca had prepared Valkyrie. They could have cruised below the ice for another two days, pretending to be normal researchers for twice 24 hours, but that would have just delayed the decision. They wanted to finish their ascent now.
Today, on Christmas Eve, there are people who believe a savior was born 2046 years ago. Martin saw no one who would save them, even if he hoped for it. We will do what humans always do when things get rough. We will try to survive, even though Watson calculated our chance as below one in five.
Francesca appeared calm, at least externally. During the night he had heard her sob, but he had no idea how he could comfort her. I should try to reassure her, though I would rather have someone else to tell me everything will be all right.
They were back at a location where they had been several days earlier. If Valkyrie aimed its searchlights upward they would see a cathedral of ice with black sediments on the inside of the cupola, as if made by centuries of rising incense.
The instruments registered a slight current. The water, having absorbed heat from the rocks at the ocean floor, moved upward. The path to the surface became narrower and narrower, increasing the pressure with which the water rushed toward the outside.
They had not yet reached that spot, though. They had a long discussion about what would follow. Martin concluded, She is a good pilot, but she is not able to react as quickly as the AI can. Maybe she is better at evaluating tricky situations. They finally agreed: Francesca would put Valkyrie in position, then Watson would steer it. The main task consisted of rising through a system of interconnected passages without crashing the vehicle into the ice, which was hard as steel, and without maneuvering it into a position with no way out.
Valkyrie was a drill that could swim, not a submarine that could drill. It was optimized for finding the direct path through the ice by using its hot water jets. A real submarine could be controlled more quickly and precisely.
Martin expected two kinds of obstacles. For one thing, the path ahead of us might suddenly end, because ice masses have shifted. Then we will have to reverse and search for a different path. Much more likely, though, the passage may become too narrow for Valkyrie. Water always found a way, but they would need at least three meters in all directions. If the laser link still worked, this would have posed no problem. However, they only had the remainder of their energy in the batteries. Even though they had used it frugally, it would only be enough to melt a few meters of ice. Exactly how many meters depended upon the temperature of the ice—which decreased toward the surface—among other things. The higher up they climbed, the more difficult it would get.
Francesca stood in front of her console and tried to concentrate. It seemed difficult for her to give the start command. If they got stuck in the ice, all hope was lost.
“It’s no good, thinking too much,” he said with a sigh. Francesca nodded.
“Watson, begin ascent.”
The jets started up. The vehicle lifted its nose and aimed for the darkness. Watson used all of Valkyrie’s sensors to find the right way. With radar and lidar the AI could see a bit into the future, and at least guess what awaited them beyond the next curves.
Martin watched the surroundings on the display. The channel in which they were ascending would have been wide enough for the mothership. Yet after about 450 meters it ended in a vent that looked like a chimney. The water rushed through it in a fast current. Watson agreed to this course. The vent was narrow, but not too tight. On the monitor, Valkyrie was moving at breakneck speed through the narrow passage in the ice, and the water current gave it more speed than the jets.
The vent ended after another 275 meters in a large cavity, a bubble in the ice. The vehicle slowed down.
“A short break?” Martin wondered.
“Why not,” Francesca said. She deactivated the jets. Valkyrie now hovered in complete darkness.
Martin turned on the searchlights. Francesca cast him a questioning look.
“Doesn’t really matter now,” he said. “It will be over soon enough.”
The screen showed the cave in true colors. Martin was amazed, as the floor glittered and sparkled as if they had found Aladdin’s cave. I cannot help but admire its beauty, even though I might not survive the day. The suspended particles, which the water had quickly dissolved from the ice and carried along, had lost their impetus here and collected at the bottom. Due to the difference in concentration, they had crystallized. The crystals must have grown over millennia.