Welcome Aboard Air Marineris
Chapter Twenty: Ad Astra

We billed it as a welcome breakfast for Bee. I invited Lou and Chantelle as well. They were members of the work team too, and I didn’t want them to feel left out. It was one of those things that start off small and just build. We had six people: Bee, Klara, Dini, Chantelle, Lou, and me. I preordered loaves of bread and coffee, butter, and jams. I left the omelets for last. Nobody likes a cold omelet and they come off fast. I scheduled it early. Dini didn’t want to miss work.

She was embarked on a new protocol for neurosurgery with Syd, our GP, and she didn’t want to hold him up. I didn’t want to miss a day of work, and the autochefs were easier to get at with a large group early in the morning. There was another reason. We had come to the realization that our handlers kept Earth business hours. We could schedule it for before they came into work and reasonably exclude them. It was a coincidence that it just happened to work that morning. It was four in the morning Earth Greenwich time at sol hour six that day.

They all said their hellos and caught up a little with Bee. Lou told him about our progress and Bee gave a brief rundown on his itinerary. Then Klara took over. Holding a piece of buttered bread, she asked Bee:

“So, I’ve read your text. Who’s the mysterious librarian and what’s he doing? What’s going on down there?”

“I’ve got quite a few thoughts on that. I don’t know what they are doing for certain. But I can tell you what I saw. I heard quite a few interesting things from Captain Sagan on the Rockship. She had been deadheading to the Moon from a vacation in LEO. She lives on the Moon in her downtime, but she sees a lot of people from Earth coming up there and more coming on to Mars. People fresh off the Earth. It’s very clear to her that the scientific community on Earth is being sidelined. They are laying off thousands of scholars and research scientists all over the Earth. And it’s all at one time. Every country is doing it. It’s not overtly coordinated, but it is widespread. She’s talked to numbers of them on the Moon and on the Shuttles she sometimes flies from Earth. She says she doesn’t know why it’s being done. And she confirms that they are all being paid for the time being. They are being furloughed, not discharged. The research projects are being shut down, they say.

“When I got to the Moon, I talked to all the members of the business community at Newton. The guys at Moon Tools, Moon Electronics and all the rest. By the way, the factory manager at Moon Tools agreed to work for us. That lead from Jan was good. We may get some others. The Moon is a good place to work, but Mars is better. There’s more. They are offering cheap space at Einstein in the Cecilia Payne facility. They are definitely repurposing that place. When I got there, I confirmed that. No doubt about EarthWatch. That’s gone. On the Moon they think that the LSA is redirecting the whole place to private enterprise. In view of the heavy subsidies they have been getting through EarthWatch’s revenue, the Moon’s economic prospects are uncertain at best in the short run. They were happy to see me and our business. No doubt, Earth is checking out. What concerns them is that no announcements have been made. It’s being kept under the radar.”

Nobody in our group said a thing. This was either bad news, or the best news we could imagine. Klara spoke for the rest of us. The omelets went uneaten.

“What about your visit to Payne? Dr. Musa should know.”

“I really didn’t understand it until I went to see Zainab Musa at Payne. It was absolutely clear when I walked through the door. It was empty. Not one of the six hundred research people there the last time I got a report of it was there. I had spoken to her many times, and I had met her when she came south to identify her daughter’s body. I had never had the excuse to travel the MoonSpanner to Einstein. Gloria told me though. She had never seen so many scientists in one place before. She told me all about it. She told me about the hundreds of telescopes they had operated, and the EarthWatch report they had issued every week.

“Dr. Musa was not in good humor when I saw her. She still grieves for the death of her last daughter. But she told me it’s over there. She had kept up with many of her colleagues when they were ‘rotated’ to Earth. It was a fiction that it was rotation. It was discharge from the project. Yet each one continued to receive full salary, less space allowances, of course. They had all been sent back to Earth. All were paid the medical expenses to re-adapt to full gravity. That is not easy. To avoid that, many tarried on the LEO colonies. Easier transition there. Dr. Musa also confirmed to me that she is Chancellor of Elysium University. She is helping to organize a space-based institution. Much smaller than the universities of Earth, of course, but the faculty is brilliant. It is comprised of the best scientists of Earth.”

“Boris, we’ve got enough information on what’s happening. I have even heard things from Mo and Linh about the changes in science taking place. What I would like you to expand on is why. You mentioned a man named Abner in your letter who was the only other employee at Payne. You intimated that you had more to say about him than you could mention in your letter. He could be the key to all this. Obviously, they have isolated him in what they think is an inaccessible place. But not completely. You were able to speak to him were you not?”

“Yes, I had coffee with him. He’s a lonely man with only a mother still deep in mourning her last daughter to talk to. Zainab isn’t usually in a mood for conversation. His occupation seems to have made him used to solitude, but he is human. We all need social interaction. He was instructed to keep his work secret, but his employers seem to be undercutting that revealing all the information he is collecting, so he doesn’t see the point. Where he is, though, he doesn’t have anyone to reveal it to. He talked to me, but he was still reluctant to reveal everything. He doesn’t know what the UN would think of that. Technically, though, he isn’t employed by the UN, and he isn’t on UN territory. He says he is designated as part of the Starward Project, and that is yet another independent authority that rents its premises from the LSA. See? Complicated.”

People had been gathering on the fringes of our group, taking adjacent tables to listen in on our conversation. Most of the people here were not long off Earth and were familiar as us with conditions there. Many had come from the academic community and industry. To a thinking person, it was obvious that something bad was going on. That aspect didn’t bother Klara, who you would think would be most sensitive to such issues. What was more concerning was that they didn’t seem to care much about what we thought on Earth. So, we talked.

Klara was getting a bit testy. “All very interesting, Boris. Fine observation, good character development. Would you get to the point, please?”

Bee was a bit shamefaced, but not much. He always liked to talk, and he was quite determined to tell his stories in his own way. He got to things in his own time.

“Ok, Klara. Abner Hoffman is his name. He is described as a librarian, but his specialty is managing databases. It is his job to classify the information he receives and store it. For that, he has a link to a storage site on Earth. He has a special data terminal that is attached to a new kind of receiver. It is probably similar to the ones in Klara’s office, but it has no image attached to it. It is one-way. He can’t send anything. That’s what he thinks anyway. It does not appear to him that this information is sent to him from people like us. He is aware that his radio uses means of communication different from any other radio. These transmissions are not from Earth. He has never come across any reference to them. He has therefore concluded that these transmissions are coming to him from outside the solar system. There is no base or source conceivable in the outer solar system, so it must be something further out.

“Terabytes of data come in every day. They appear to him to be pages from textbooks with articles on various subjects. It’s all in plain English that appears to him to be translated, because the wording and syntax is awkward. The articles are all on hard science and technology. There is never any pictorial material except for diagrams contained in the articles. They are on an extraordinary number of subjects, many discussing concepts that appear to have no basis in any contemporary science. The classification of these articles is a difficult exercise for Abner. Since he is not a scientist, but a technician, he is not an authority on the contents of the articles, but he senses that many are technology which is not explained in scientific terms. He therefor believes that he is not getting a complete record of the science behind the technology that is being offered. He cautions that it is just his impression, and he is not qualified to offer any opinion on the material he is receiving.

“Because he is alone, he has a lot of time to think. His hobby is the history of communications, and he often listens to TV and radio broadcasts of the twentieth century, his specific area of interest. He says that we have been sending out accounts of everything we have been doing for the last two hundred years. In his opinion, it is not a pretty story we have been telling. During that time, no thought at all was given to censuring those transmissions to minimize their horror. Who would have thought its content could ever be critical? I don’t think that anyone watching and listening to that material could be proud of many of the works of the human race.

“Can we imagine what they would look like to an advanced race that had left savagery and killing millennia behind them? Let us assume that they have attained the ability to voyage, at least virtually, between the stars. They become aware of us, and we appear to them to be marauding killers who see no limits to destruction. If there were some association of intelligent species, what conclusion would they come to about revealing themselves to us? Remember, they have been studying us for the entire time we have been technologically aware.

“Perhaps better to send mysterious transmissions to us that bear gifts that will manipulate us, if not to goodness, perhaps to enfeeblement. If they turn us inward, we will pose a lesser threat. Maybe that is the purpose of the partial information they supply. They already know we are lazy, cruel, and greedy. Their gifts take advantage of that. He thinks that the UN has been suborned by the toys they have provided. And gadgets like the mindbath hobble us further while they make the UN, the licensor, lots of money. And they didn’t need even to touch us. Why bother with a death-ray?

“Abner hasn’t any doubt about it. He is a very thoughtful young man. He thinks the people, he calls them the Cthaw, have concluded that we must be stopped. He got the name from one reference in one article that was not completely trimmed. It was contained in a compound word his classification software glommed on to. That may not be their name, it doesn’t really matter.

“He has also analyzed the apparent location of the signal’s likely origin using a star pattern recognition program on one of the astronomy articles. Doctor Musa did that for him. One of her Farside instruments is a neutrino detector. There is no sign of a coherent signal in her reception. The signals are not being sent. They just appear. These aliens, if they are that, don’t seem to be too meticulous about scavenging the information they send us. What could we do to them now? The program indicates the source is oriented about Barnard’s Star, about six light years away. Quite close in galactic terms. That is not necessarily definitive either, of course. We can’t detect the transmission.”

Klara had chosen a strategic table. It was far enough from the autochefs at the front of the cafeteria so people would not be passing us all the time. It was far enough from the favorite meeting place of the Briar and Rose at the back so we would not attract attention from there. We were just next to the canyon wall displayscreens, away from the pegpoles. We wouldn’t impede the late breakfast crowd. Or so I thought. We were loud, and we were talking about subjects interesting to all comers.

Klara then turned the discussion to the others. The commercial implications of Bee’s trip suddenly became superficial and unimportant.

“Does anyone else have thoughts on this?”

Chantelle stood up:

“Obviously, we would think these aliens have gotten the wrong idea about us. I come from a background more sinned against than sinning, certainly, and I can tell you we haven’t forgotten about the sufferings of the past. We do not seek retribution. There is no point in that. The guilty are long since dead. I think part of the problem is that we have been radio silent for seventy years. Since we live underground, and have a toxic atmosphere, everything is by wire or localized Wi-Fi, except for the internet beamed at the moon and Mars. They don’t know that we have changed. There are no more wars, armies do public works, and we have a world government that imposes peace. The world is different, and we have not told them that. I think it would help if we brought them up to date. Maybe we could change their minds.”

Dini, most often a silent observer, then rose. This surprised me because she didn’t interest herself in politics. Dini is a much more sensitive person than I am. You lose sight of that sometimes because she is so fiercely focused on her work. But, to me, she is very tender, often overly so. She has sensitivity for feelings I barely perceive, and her insight has laid bare aspects of me I am not always sure I want exposed. And she does the same for others. So, when she spoke, she did that for us.

“I am a doctor. My job makes me take a different point of view. The first thing I do is take the patient’s history. I don’t pay attention to mine. That won’t tell me what I need to know. We are all taking our own history and forgetting the patient who has the malady we want to cure. We consider propaganda to convince these aliens that we are good people now. That’s good, but the problem we want to solve is not just our own. It’s that of the Cthaw as well. Chantelle says we must tell them that we have been behaving much better lately, and that is right. But these aliens are people of heart as well as mind. Or else why would they care what alien, primitive, cultures do to their own people?

“They are six light years, at least, from us. They could easily shut us off and ignore us. We can pose no danger to them. That distance is an unbreachable barrier to us, and it is unlikely we will ever crack it. This is our home, and we will never leave it in any way that matters. So, then, I ask again, why does it matter to them? It is because they feel for those unnamed millions who were crushed in the many holocausts we so accurately portrayed in those thousands of transmissions. We have forgotten them. They have not. They know our true nature. We have moved on. They cannot.

“They are not trying to punish us. There is no way to do that as we are now. You cannot rebuke those who have no remorse and can’t understand their crimes in any meaningful way. You can only contain them. Yet, punishment is never enough. If you want to save them, you must show them how they are wrong, and you must lead them to understand that. That is what the Cthaw are trying to do for us.

“They use what we should value most, our humanity, to show us how we have betrayed our promise. Most of us will never comprehend what they are saying. But I hope that they are like God over Sodom; that they know we only need a few to redeem us all. We have suffered so much that we have hardened ourselves. We have forgotten what genuine personhood is, and these aliens want us to remember it. They want us to understand what we have done by showing some few of us how to feel again. To force us to comply is not enough. We must know it is right.

“They could probably transmit our garbage right back to us, but we might misunderstand the message. When we change and we show them that at least some of us have learned, they may relent and correspond with us. That is what we must seek. I see little prospect of Earth doing so now, but we in space could do it. In taking on the University, we have shouldered some of our true heritage. Let us continue with that. Let us be more fully human. Eventually they will recognize that. Until then we can only wait.”

Then she sat down and cast her eyes down too. That is the woman I fell in love with. Her passion is incandescent when it is on the rise. It is that quiet fervor that draws you. Every ear had listened to her. Her dark eyes glistened, and the gestures of her hands summoned up connotations the words missed.

By this time, a large group had gathered around us. A semi-circle of several hundred people, and many of them were shouting comments. They pushed the tables aside so they could get closer, the chairs in rows. I was put in mind of the crowd last time we had gathered in a meeting here. That did not end well. I had a better feeling about this one. People were hopeful, not fearful. Klara took it all in hand. She recognized them one by one. They stood and joined the town meeting it had then become. I was very inspired by that. Things were happening.

Xander Tropus, a geologist, got up:

“I don’t think I can venture to comment on the moral dimension of this conversation, but I would like to suggest that we fully subscribe to the Elysium University idea and establish a campus on Mars. I would love to hook up for studies with geologists elsewhere and focus studies on Mars. And perhaps beyond. Being on the edge of the Asteroid Belt is a good place for extended studies for our next steps in space.”

Next was Gerry McBride. He was a barracks room lawyer and a labor advocate. He was a pain, but he was often right. That didn’t help accommodate his audience. I didn’t like his reference to Dini. But she can take care of herself.

“Since the aliens seem to like human rights so much, how about a few here? The authority’s charter says we can have all kinds of consultative councils. Where are they? What about setting them up? It would make it look like we have some interest in individual rights. What more could any alien want? And while we are at it, I nominate myself for the legislative council.”

Klara didn’t skip a beat on that one.

“You are right, Gerry. I can tell you that I have been too busy to recruit people to help me set up these committees. In the long run, though, it will save me time and it will be better for me to devote my time to the business of Starward and leave the civil stuff to you people. Since you offered, Gerry, I am going to take you up on that right now. You are hereby appointed to the interim action committee advising me. You probably want to be the chairman. I am fine with that, Mr. Chairman.”

Gerry was surprised by Klara’s instant acquiescence. He had probably been relishing the prospect of a satisfying fight, not an unrelenting job of hard work. Klara was right to corral him right away. She gave him no room to back out. Better the wolf than the sheep. He would probably do a very good job for her, and us. She continued:

“Gerry is absolutely right. This place needs to become more of a community and less of a work camp. I know you are very dedicated people, and I am certainly not one to criticize your work ethic. I am a very dull girl myself. But understand that what I offer you is far from freedom to do what you want. I am asking you to be citizens, not employees. You will say goodbye to your free time. I ask you to serve on the legislative committee with Gerry here. I will also be asking for you to perform many other functions. I want a trained first aid squad to help Ondine and Syd. They now do all the medical work themselves. Mavis is mostly engaged herself as a nurse practitioner outside the clinic. This place is getting bigger. There are going to be a lot more people in a lot more industry, and more people will get hurt. No way to avoid everything. We will need at least ten people for that squad, and they will need to meet regularly to train and be on duty in shifts.

“I also want an athletics committee to arrange intramural sports. Alex did kill people, but he was a very good athletics coordinator. There has been no one to replace him in that function. I want a committee of at least five people to set up tournaments in all our sports. They will need referees and officials of various types to do that. I suggest emphasis on exterior-oriented sports. I want virtual walking clubs exploring likely sites all over the surface of the planet. We will be getting millions of flyeyes, and I want them to help set them. You can use the copters. One of the first things they can do is walk the rim of the Valles where the rest of the train way is going to be. I want the fullest information possible on that area, and so does Monica. We are going to need to study those cliffs stone by stone, and you people are going to help us do that. If you want, you can also have rowing clubs for the virtual ocean routines. I suggest races and rowing clubs. And, in everything, collect data when you can.

“It goes on and on. I want reading groups and performing groups. What about a competition for players teams? Chess and card clubs, exercise groups of all kinds. I want you all to engage as citizens of this city. I will be happy to hand over whatever authority, and whatever funds, we need to accomplish that. It will be hard to keep it up, but it has its satisfactions.

“So, Gerry, your aliens will love it. We can’t forget them in this orgy of democracy. Getting back to our original subject, Chantelle, you will need some help from our co-citizens here producing the videopac for broadcast. They will need a lot of work you don’t have time for. Feel free to draw on them. As well, you will need to consult, at least, with the Directors on the Moon and LEO.

“Since the Earth does not even acknowledge the alien’s transmissions, there would be no point in approaching them. It would spoil their fun. We could still produce and send out some innocuous sounding videopac that help us put the shameful accounts we have sent out into some perspective. Unless the aliens have a magic radio in our system, certainly a possibility, it would still take six years to reach them. The aliens have no way of knowing that most people on Earth reviled the oppressors and mass murderers. Not that they would be too far wrong if they assumed that acceptance is approval. It would be reasonable to cloister us with the murderers. We have spent several hundred years prosecuting ourselves. We will just need to be patient to wait for any exoneration we can achieve.

“Is there anything else anyone can think of? Suggestions about something else we can do? OK. Let’s leave it for later. I think we can pass over a detailed account of Boris’ commercial contacts except to say that we made deals to cooperate with the other space colonies to sell our goods and buy what we need for Air Marineris. Boris, just send me a report on that. I will put it on our admin site. Easier to keep track of anyway. This seems a good place for meetings. We will let Gerry set it up for the first elections of the Governor’s council. That will need a new name, I think. Let’s all get busy, the aliens are waiting, you know. We want them to like us, don’t we?”

Gerry was right about the inertia here when the Moon and LEO had shown us the way. However, she couldn’t resist making a little fun of his grim, unrelenting, attachment to his personal obsessions. I agreed. You need something else. But, not in public for me. I am no-one to talk about that, having come so recently to a little bit of perspective in life.

“Brother let’s go. The excitement is over. I need a little face time with you. I want to replace out what delectable presents you have brought back from your travels. Come, tell me.”