Orb (18 page)

“Seventy-two to be precise,” Paul submitted. “Makes you wonder just how many inhabit this planet.”

“What exactly went through your mind when that sphere approached?” Kelly asked Thompson. “I personally would have set a new hundred-meter freestyle record.”

“I had an advantage. Many years ago I was charged by a bull elephant.”

“What did you do?”

“There wasn’t much I could do. I did the same thing you saw me do in the water: Not move, although every fiber of your being tells you to do so.”

“But you still insisted on reaching for that smaller sphere, didn’t you?” Diana said, punching Thompson in the shoulder. “You almost gave me a damn heart attack.”

“I prefer not giving in to a bluff. If that’s what it was.” Thompson turned to Paul. “You caught everything on the holo cam?”

“To be examined and reexamined a million times.”

“Give us ten minutes to dry off and dress and we’ll go over everything.”

I STEPPED OUT of
Desio
to witness a lively conversation in progress. Diana, still pumped from her ocean swim, was in a back-and-forth with Thompson, who, for his part, was relishing the exchange.

“And what,” Diana demanded, “shall we call a group of spheres? A pod? No! No! Better yet! A raft! The spheres float on the water surface like a raft of ducks!”

“Come now, Diana,” Thompson said. “We have yet to positively identify the spheres as living organisms.”

“Oh, yes, they are,” Diana asserted. “Who’s the biologist here?”

“Why you, of course,” said Thompson, as if relenting. A smirk said otherwise. “Then may I suggest we use the name given to a group of buffalos: An obstinacy. Which also happens to be an apt description of your personality.”

“Two can play that game,” Diana warned.

“Well, then,” Thompson challenged. “Take your best shot.”

“This should be amusing,” Kelly remarked as I took a place between her and Paul at the table. “The biologist vs. ex-game warden.”

“Perhaps,” said Diana, “the spheres should have the same name given to a grouping of Bullfinches, a bellowing. Like what you’re doing right now.”

“Personally, I’d stick with Starlings,” Thompson replied. This, for your edification, is called a chattering. It is what you’re
always
doing.

“That’s more pleasant than a cackle. Hyenas.”

“Rhinos. A stubbornness.”

“Doves. Piteousness.”

“You’re stretching,” Diana said. “That’s not a word.”

“Let’s ask the writer,” Thompson said. “Kyle?”

“Sorry, Diana,” I replied. “It’s a word.”

“So is implausibility,” Diana responded. “Gnus.”

“Goldfish—troubling.”

“I rather think of myself as a charm … of gold
finches
.”

“Can somebody please put a stop to this?” Kelly pleaded.

“Yes” I said, “Listening to this is murder. Of crows, of course.”

“You’re a big help,” Kelly said, laughing.

The exchange had the potential of lasting forever. Only I had forgotten that Melhaus was present. “Are you people finished?” he asked. “So we can get down to the work at hand?”

“You know your problem?” Diana chided. “Somewhere out in the vacuum of space you lost your sense of humor.” Then, under her breath, “Tortoises.”

“Larry’s right,” Thompson interjected, heading off another argument. “It pains you, Diana, but we’ll have to call it a draw. Listen up. Thanks to Paul, the visual record of what transpired in the water was uploaded to your AIDs. I’d like you to hold off comments till the end.”

Watching what took place made it even more incredible. When the last image faded away, we looked at each other for confirmation.

A long silence was broken by Thompson. “Shall we view it again?”

“Why not? Paul commented. “I doubt it, but maybe we’ll believe it the second time.”

Upon completion of the second playback, we recounted our individual experiences in the water.

Then came the questions.

How do spheres move? How do they suddenly cease moving? Why was I capable of sending a sphere skimming across the water? How do they levitate themselves? What causes the slight tingling when touched? Is it in any way related to the subtle sensation of well-being when immersed in the ocean? What’s responsible for the spheres’ perfect roundness and smoothness?

Every question giving birth to three more.

Ultimately a consensus (Diana abstaining) was reached: The spheres’
physical
attributes appeared to be contrary to those associated with a living organism.

But what of the spheres’ actions? Which of the following demonstrated the behavior of a living organism: Movement toward shore when Angie barked? Response to Thompson’s entry into the ocean? One sphere’s rapid approach when another was about to be touched? The tingling sensation felt on surface contact? The sphere allowing itself to be pushed away? Formation into a group? One group joining other groups?

For each of these observations, more than one possible explanation was offered.

A second consensus (Melhaus abstaining) was reached: There was sufficient reason to believe that the spheres were exhibiting behavior associated with a living organism.

At the conclusion of this thoughtfest, Thompson sat at the head of the table pondering two seemingly irreconcilable conclusions: The spheres had the physical attributes of an inanimate object but the behavioral aspects of a living organism. As he stared into space, we stared at him. We were at a loss. Stumped despite the crew’s unparalleled learning in the sciences and an intuitive, holographic, AI containing the sum and substance of human knowledge.

“What the hell are they?” Thompson said, intrigued and perplexed, as were we all, and also a little exasperated. Each member of the crew offered up an opinion. No one made a convincing case. The best fit: The spheres are inert objects that, in some unknown manner, are being internally or externally controlled.

Only we couldn’t bring ourselves to believe it. The square peg was refusing to fit in a round hole.

My opinion was solicited last by Thompson. After all, I’m a hard act to follow. But what could I contribute to this discussion? If nothing else, it wouldn’t and shouldn’t be anything like what was already out there for us to ponder.

“OK, hear me out,” I said.

“Uh oh, I sense a story coming,” Diana said.

“Generations ago, when science fiction and fantasy were thriving, physicists theorized that there existed a multiverse in which everything, including perverse laws of physics, were not only possible, but probable. That there were an infinite number of realities, each one more intriguing than the next.

“Now consider how an artist, let’s say a novelist, illustrator, or programmer, might react upon learning that their bizarrest, most imaginative creations were thought to actually exist somewhere or, worse, superseded by unlimited versions of reality itself? Interestingly enough, instead of pulling the flying carpet out from under their feet, theoretical science was a source of inspiration, a force driving the artists to be crazier than they already were, crazier, possibly, than the scientists postulating the infinite multiverse.

“This is an example of science inspiring art, but the reverse has often been true: The artistry and imagination of DaVinci, Verne, Clarke and Shen Kuo come to mind. My point is that the creative artist and the creative scientist feed off each other’s ideas. Both need to cultivate a fertile imagination. Perhaps between the two we’ll have a vision guiding us closer to an understanding of the spheres’ reality.”

Thompson patiently heard me out, but since I had provided nothing definitive, he remained unsatisfied. “To grow a beautiful crystal,” he said, “even in a saturated solution, it helps to start with a seed. Let’s have one.”

“I suggest that if the sphere is a living entity with a conscious awareness, its behavior will be nothing like ours. If its physical form is any indication, how can it be? Its view of, and reaction to, existence may translate into actions as consistent, steady and
automatic
as a heartbeat is to us. In some sense the spheres may not need to actively behave at all. Maybe they just
are
.”

I was used to having half my ideas dismissed. Thompson was preparing to put what I said in the other half when Melhaus responded by emitting a derisive snigger. I leaned back in my chair and girded myself for another round of criticism.

“You’re sounding like more of a riddle than the spheres themselves,” Melhaus said. Then, leaning forward to emphasize his next point, “The spheres, you need to understand, are responsible for the destruction of
Ixodes
.”

The reactions to Melhaus’s statement—curiosity, worry and surprise—circulated around the table and landed in front of Thompson, where they were promptly absorbed. After quieting Diana (she lobbed some caustic remarks at Melhaus), he looked out across the ocean as if seeking assurance that the spheres peacefully floating there had not appreciably moved. After scrutinizing Melhaus’s face, and apparently in no mood for equivocation, he said, “Larry, state your evidence.”

“Gladly,” the physicist responded. “Point by point. One: Backward extrapolation of the spheres’ movement places them in the general vicinity of the sub when she was lost. Two:
Ixodes’
AI failed to confirm an internal malfunction. Three: The spheres have sufficient mass and, as you have personally witnessed, sufficient acceleration to disable a sub. Four: The last recorded images from
Ixodes
show the presence of round objects in close proximity.”

“Larry, your first three points are circumstantial,” Thompson replied. “Collectively, they are not persuasive and certainly not conclusive. As for your final point: I’ve reviewed the last images from the sub. Twice, in fact. There are a few ‘ghosts’ caused by the optics, possibly caused by sunlight reflecting through the water, but nothing more.”

“You’re missing it,” Melhaus insisted. “I’ve examined the images fif… uh, sufficiently, to determine with absolute certainty that we are not looking at image artifacts.”

“I’ll review the record again,” Thompson replied. “In fact, we all will. For the moment, let us say you are correct. Why would the spheres disable the sub?”

“No motive is necessary. Perhaps it was an accidental encounter. According to Kyle, any reason is possible.”

“There is one possible explanation,” I said, enjoying a feeling of satisfaction when Melhaus was temporarily thrown off-stride. I had, in fact, surprised everyone. Too bad I wasn’t going to make Thompson’s job any easier.

I also ruffled Diana’s feathers. “You’re in agreement with him?!” she said. “What, exactly, is going on here?”

Thompson raised an eyebrow. “Kyle?”

“
Ixodes,
when operational, was accidentally exterminating some of the phytoplankton it collected. Not necessarily a good way of introducing ourselves here, is it? I kept this thought to myself because I believed the sphere’s responding to this as unlikely—still do, but less so. I also kept the idea to myself because I have already been accused of having a bias against scientific research.”

“This goes a long way in confirming my opinion,” Melhaus said.

“Well shit, Larry, I just can’t get it right, can I?”

“No, none of you can.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Thompson asked.

“That stunt in the water proved what?”

“You’re joking, right?” Diana said, turning on Melhaus.

“Information was obtained,” Thompson said, motioning to Diana to be still. “I’ve warned against expecting easy answers. What exactly do you recommend we do, Doctor Melhaus?”

“Use the ship’s cargo netting to outright capture one of the spheres for bifurcation and detailed study.”

“I know you’ve lost your sense of humor,” Diana blurted out. “Have you now completely lost your mind?!”

Melhaus rose from the table, violently pushing back his chair.

“Go ahead, leave!” Diana urged. “We’ve tolerated enough of your crap!”

“We’ve?!”

“Who haven’t you pissed off?!”

“Enough!” Thompson said firmly. “Larry, sit down.”

When the physicist wavered, Thompson stretched out his hand, palm up, a clear and benign gesture inviting him to return to his seat at the table. The physicality of the move deftly got the message across and avoided an escalation of words. Melhaus reluctantly complied.

“Listen to me for a minute, Larry.
Listen
. What you suggest is unacceptable for many reasons. I’ll use your own argument, that the spheres are responsible for the destruction of
Ixodes
. If you believe that to be true, wouldn’t trying to capture one place all of us in considerable jeopardy?”

“It would be a small and acceptable risk. They can’t reach us on land. You fail to consider how they must maintain constant contact with the ocean.”

In truth, that supposed limitation had not been discussed, and it came as something of a revelation to the rest of us that Melhaus considered it as an immutable law. Thompson, however, was not put off.

“That is a supposition yet to be proven. Exactly how the spheres would react is little more than guesswork. I understand we are all prepared to tolerate some risk for the sake of the mission or we wouldn’t be here, no argument, but you must also realize that the responsibility to evaluate and avoid unnecessary danger to the crew rests with me.”

“I’ll put the risk solely on myself. What I am proposing I can, with difficulty, accomplish alone.”

“I’m not surprised you’d try, given your level of dedication,” Thompson said, trying to de-escalate the tension. “Only thing is, my responsibility to this mission includes intervening when a member of the crew voluntarily places themself in a hazardous situation. Like it or not, we’re stuck with each other, and an injury to one jeopardizes us all.”

“That concern was ameliorated when
you
planned for redundancy in our training.”

“I see I fail to sway you. Have you stopped to consider that the spheres may very well be in opposition to what you are suggesting? That we would be alienating them?”