December 6
John gave Maggie a kiss, a long kiss, as he tried to untie the knot in the pit of his stomach. He had read all the stats. Flying was just as safe as driving, maybe a little safer, but that didn't matter. He would soon be 60,000 feet up, traveling at Mach 7, and if anything went wrong, anything at all, he was toast. And this wasn't just a hop to New Zealand or Australia; he was flying over the equator, where unexpected thermals can flip a passenger plane upside down in a heartbeat. An upwelling plume of steam can even snuff out a scramjet, if the conditions are just right. Yes, the plane usually got the engine started again before it crashed into the ocean, but ...
He was interrupted by Tamara and Mark, calling out in unison. "Bye Daddy."
"Bye kids." He blew them each a kiss and turned towards the door. His car was just pulling up. He sprinted to the car without a shade, his flight bag over his shoulder. He like to travel light. A couple shirts, a razor, his slides and notes, and the corporate credit card. He didn't really need more than that, although he was beginning to wish he had packed some tranquilizers.
He stepped into the car and closed the door as the fans pushed the hot air back out of the cab. His menu appeared on the touchscreen, but the airport was not one of his pre-selects. In fact this was his first flight.
"Airport." he commanded. In a flash the screen was replaced with a new menu, displaying the four airports on Antarctica. He touched international airport and the car sped away.
"Bach." he thought to himself. "That will calm my nerves. It always does." He tapped the music icon, then the letter B, then the Brandenburgs. The airport was on the other side of the continent, so he settled back for a long ride.
The fifth concerto was just beginning when John felt the 2 G's of deceleration. His car was turning into the airport as planes circled overhead. The cab swung around to face forward again, and the car needed some guidance.
"Please specify a terminal." John was going to say something like, "I'm headed to Siberia.", but he didn't know what the car expected to hear, and if the words aren't just right the language recognizer can jump the tracks. So he glanced at the menu and touched the Asia icon. "Very good." replied the car as it moved towards the far terminal.
John stepped out of the glare of the noon-day sun and into the terminal, blinking his eyes once or twice. "Where's the board?" he thought as he looked around the room. "Ok, there it is. ... Flight 329 to Siberia, departs in, wow, 15 minutes! Gate C9." He stood frozen in place as people milled about. "I don't have much time. ... Now where the skat is C9?" He read one sign, then another, until he finally located the correct concourse. "C1 through C9. That's me. Looks like I'm at the far end. That figures." He stepped onto the moving walkway and noticed that it wasn't moving. "Futsak!" he blurted out.
"Yeah." said the frequent flyer at his side. "You have to hoof it today. That's not unusual round here."
John grunted and pulled his flight bag up over his shoulder as he set a brisk pace. He should have allotted more time. C4, C5, C6. John thought he saw a flash of red hair in the distance, but then it was gone. C7, C8, C9. He stepped off the malfunctioning walkway and jogged towards the counter. There she was, just ahead of him. She passed through the door and into the sniff chamber. "I'm not the only one who's late." he thought as he approached the counter. "John C. Farsee." he declared, directing his voice towards a large microphone and the woman behind the desk simultaneously.
She looked back with an emotionless stare. Then she seemed to realize that John had no clue what to do. "Sir, you put your right hand here, and look into this camera. The computer validates your voice, hand print, and retinal scan." John did as he was told and she waved him through. "You're clear." she said in a flat voice. He wondered why she was here at all. Seems like the computer could handle everything.
John stepped through the door and into the sniff chamber, about the size of a large closet. The doors sealed shut and a gentle breeze began to blow upward through the grate in the floor. It ruffled his shirt as it moved up to the ceiling, carrying trace molecules into the vents above, where a waiting computer sniffed the air for the slightest whiff of explosives or contraband. If anyone was caught with explosives on his person, or in his luggage, he would be interrogated for several weeks, then put slowly to death for all to see. John thought these grizzly public executions were unnecessary, but the government considered it a deterrent, a message to any would-be terrorist. Besides, there were some sick people who simply liked to watch. Unfortunately John was one of them. Not very often you understand, maybe once or twice a year. When everyone else was asleep he would slink downstairs, enter his pass code, and watch the torture channel. He had his hand on the remote at all times, in case Tamara came downstairs for a drink of water. He kept the volume low, so that only he could hear the screams. He watched for a couple hours, and that sated him for the next six months. Nobody knew, not even his wife. Of course the government knew, but he didn't realize that. He was being monitored, covertly, along with everyone else who signed on to the torture channel. It was a wise precaution. The channel continued to air, despite public protests, because it acted as bait, attracting the antisocial, the mentally unstable, and the members of the underground. John didn't know any of this as he engaged in the sick pleasure of his semiannual ritual, yet the statistics were about to ring true. He was already flirting with the underground by dealing with Squanto, and in two weeks he was going to up the anti.
The breeze stopped and the outer door opened onto the jetway. John recognized the red braid slipping out of sight around the corner. "Julie." he called out. She turned back towards him and smiled. "Hold on, I'll be right there." He stepped away from the sniff chamber and the outer door closed behind him, as the inner door opened to admit the next passenger. John trotted towards Julie as though she was a long lost friend. Actually he was glad to have the company; he really didn't want to fly alone.
They sat down in seats 3A and 3B, with John at the window. "We just made it." said Julie.
"yes, lots of traffic today." He looked at the touchscreen in front of him and tapped the drink icon. A menu of beverages appeared, with the alcoholic drinks on the right. "Hey, we're in first class, I'm going to have a drink." John announced as he made his selection. "Care to join me?"
"Great idea." said Julie, but she was interrupted by a synthesized voice from overhead.
"The doors are now closing; passengers please take your seats." The cabin door swung shut and made an air tight seal. "The flight plan has been received from ground control. We should be in the air for 4 hours and 17 minutes. Please enjoy the flight. Your attendant's name is Marcy; press the call button if you have any questions."
As if on cue, Marcy emerged from the galley with her cart rumbling ahead of her. "Good morning." she announced in a cheerful voice, as the plane pulled away from the terminal. She passed out the drinks to the members in first class, then slid her cart deftly back into its parking spot. She didn't have much time. The plane was already approaching the runway, and you didn't want to be standing in the aisle during take-off. Marcy hopped into her seat at the front of the cabin just as the plane was cleared for departure.
"Hold on to your drink," advised Julie, "or it will be all over the front of your shirt. Don't keep it straight up and down; tip it forward as the plane accelerates."
"Right." replied John. "Or I could just gulp it down now, and then I wouldn't have to worry about it." He adopted the latter strategy as the plane turned onto the runway.
The passengers experience 2 G's of acceleration, which is no different from moving onto the express way, but somehow the added half a G of lift makes all the difference. It felt like they were headed out into space. John looked out the window and saw the airport drop away, like a miniature city that Mark might play with. The plane pierced through the cloud deck like a knife. He forgot his fear as he looked out over the clouds, houses, streets, and the approaching coastline. In another minute they were over the ocean and ready to break the sound barrier. The roar of the engines increased as sound piled up just ahead of the wings. Then the plane punched through Mach 1 and the sound dropped away. It was actually quieter than a car, and he could talk to Julie with ease. The plane gained altitude and speed, but it was hard to tell over the featureless ocean. The forward acceleration continued, providing the usual sensory paradox. John felt like the plane was headed straight up into the sky, as he was pulled against the back of his seat, yet his eyes told him a different story. The ocean provided a horizon that could not be denied; the plane was indeed traveling parallel to the Earth. After a few seconds of mental ambiguity he wisely closed his eyes and waited for the plane to reach cruising speed. His thoughts returned to the sniff chamber, and the frightening consequences of being caught. It was just last year, wasn't it? The man who made an enemy of someone in the underground? That's what they think happened anyways. Someone planted a "device" in his luggage just before he boarded a flight to Australia. He endured the entire interrogation process, and the horrific execution, before they realized what had happened. The government offered an apology to his family, but that was all. A spokesman for the Ministry of Information said this was a very unusual case. "Mistakes like this are regrettable, but unavoidable. ... Believe me, there will be an investigation." And there was, but it didn't lead to a change in procedure as far as anyone on the outside could tell. John was careful not to take anything from anyone before his flight. No pamphlets, no free samples, nothing.
The soft rumble of the engines assumed a higher pitch as the scramjets took over. The acceleration eased down to zero, and the plane was in level flight. John stood up to regain his bearings and collided, rather abruptly, with the overhead bin.
"You're a little too tall for that." said Julie with a laugh. "Or else the plane is too short."
John sat down again and ordered another drink. He turned to Julie with her green eyes sparkling. "You don't mind this at all, do you? Flying I mean."
"It's ok." she said. "If you don't look out the window, it's just like a car ride." John took her advice and kept his gaze inside the plane for the next two hours. In fact his eyes were closed for the second hour as he drifted into a light sleep. Julie read quietly, trying not to disturb him. When Marcy came through the camin, Julie simply waved her away. John might have slept longer, but the synthesized voice broke in.
"Ladies and gentlemen, if you look to the right you will see the space elevator stretching up into the sky. At one time our ancestors had five functional elevators in operation, but as the Earth grew hotter, it became impractical to maintain these complex structures situated at the equator. The other four fell into disrepair, and spun off into space approximately 200 million years ago. This is the only one that remains."
John peered out the window with interest. There it was, a thin black wire rising up from the sea. At his altitude it seemed to have the thickness of a person's arm, though this didn't really tell him much, since he didn't know how far away it was. As he looked towards the sky the cable increased in girth, like the body of a black snake. If he could extend his gaze upwards some 22,000 miles he would see the midpoint of the elevator, spanning 500 feet across. Perhaps the black snake swallowed a rodent whole, and its belly expanded to accommodate the giant meal. But John couldn't look straight up, as the window was too small. Still, the elevator was a marvel to behold, a magnificent feat of engineering stretching out into space. Jacob's ladder, running through the clouds and providing access to heaven. He could almost imagine angels scurrying up and down its length.
Then John looked down towards the sea, and that was a mistake. White steam stretched as far as the eye could see. It moved about, roiling up and down as if it were alive. A monster, spread across the entire planet, animated by the boiling water below. He turned back towards Julie, his face almost as white as the steam below. "The oceans," he stammered, "they're all boiling away."
"Yes, the top fifty feet or so." replied Julie. "But it all condenses at the poles and runs back into the sea again. Believe it or not, the Earth is pretty much in equilibrium. For now anyways. ... Until the sun moves into its red giant phase."
"Yes," said John, "but I've never hung suspended over the ocean before. If the plane goes down for any reason, I mean, if we have to ditch in the ocean, we'll be thrown into boiling water."
"Just like the book I'm reading." Julie picked up the book and showed it to John. "It's called Shogun, and in chapter 3, ..." Suddenly she realized this was not going to help. She put the book back in the pocket in the seat in front of her. "Well anyways, you really don't have to worry about that. We're traveling 7 times the speed of sound, and if anything happens to the plane, we'll be blown to smithereens by the supersonic air flow. You won't feel a thing. It'll be over in seconds." She took his hand, and he didn't pull away.
John leaned back and closed his eyes. He didn't speak for several minutes, then curiosity got the better of him. "Shogun, what's that about?"
"It's a book about the Japanese." explained Julie. "You remember I told you about the Japanese. They didn't survive long after the dawn of technology, but for a few thousand years they had a culture and a language like no other. I'm trying to learn the language you know, from the old archives. Anyways, this is a great book about the clash between the English and the Japanese, their cultures as different as night and day."
She passed the book to John and he tapped the next page icon in quick succession. "It's a big book." he said. He was tempted to jump straight to chapter three, but decided against it. Instead, he went back to page 1 and began reading, slowly, just to pass the time.
Julie seemed to know so much about so many things. She read all the time, and now she was trying to learn a language that was a billion years dead. Why? Because she was curious, and the language was nothing like her own. "You have to learn the language if you're going to understand the culture." she explained one day. It was all beyond him, a person with that much time on her hands, and that much drive. Well, she didn't have any children, that's why. She had no evolutionary contract to fulfill, so her time was her own. Must be nice.
John had finished the first chapter and was about to begin the second when he was interrupted by the synthesized voice of the plane.
"Attention ladies and gentlemen. We are approaching our destination. Prepare for deceleration. We recommend you wear your seatbelts."
John and Julie fastened their seatbelts as the whine of the scramjets dropped away, replaced by the low rumble of the traditional jet engines. The plane felt like it was tipped forward, heading into the ground at a 45 degree angle. This was another perceptual illusion. It was actually slowing down while in level flight. The deceleration was mild compared to the acceleration of take-off, but John was glad he had his seatbelt fastened nonetheless. It would be rather embarrassing to slide forward onto the floor. He already made a fool of himself by smashing his head against the ceiling; that was enough for one day.
John read the first few pages of chapter 2, then passed the book back to Julie. He looked out the window as Siberia drifted beneath him. It was a beautiful metropolis, its buildings and streets framed in lights that pushed back against the winter night. Red lights, green lights, flashing lights. "Wouldn't the kids love this." he thought. He could see the airport coming up fast. The plane had been subsonic since it crossed into Russia, but now it lowered its flaps in preparation for landing. John slid forward against his seatbelt, but he barely noticed. They flew past buildings, towers, highways, and parks, and perhaps that was the world famous Siberian zoo. The plane selected a random location on the runway to avoid wearing out the same patch of pavement, measured the wind speed, and adjusted its descent accordingly. John barely noticed as the wheels touched the ground. The engines kicked into reverse and the plane slowed to 20mph, with plenty of runway to spare. "That wasn't so bad." he thought to himself, as he unfastened his seatbelt. The plane taxied for a few minutes, then pulled up to a gate. The jetway approached the cabin like a snake coming out of its cave. Marcy opened the door and bade farewell to her passengers, as stewardesses had done for a billion years. John and Julie smiled at her on the way out; she really was a good hostess. They walked along the jetway and into the terminal, which was filled with people walking this way and that. It took Julie a while to figure out which way to go, But the signs were clear, and the walkways were functioning properly, so it didn't take long to reach ground transportation. They strolled out of the terminal into the winter night, which was cool and refreshing.
"Just like your livingroom isn't it?" asked Julie cheerfully.
"Yes," agreed John," but with a nice breeze." He looked at a row of cars waiting for passengers. "This looks like a car for two." he announced, pointing to a small red car that stood just 50 feet away. They traversed the distance quickly and hopped in. Julie tapped the hotel icon and a dozen establishments appeared on the screen. She looked and the names and images, but didn't find the one she wanted.
"It's down here." said John, pointing to the lower left corner of the screen. "The letters are small, but I think that's the Gorbachev Center."
"Right." said Julie as she tapped the icon. The car pulled away and turned down Moscow Ave, merging into a stream of traffic that flowed in unison, with barely 6 feet between cars. "He won the Nobel Peace Prize you know."
"What?" asked John, opening himself up for another ancient history lesson.
"Gorbachev I mean." She paused for a moment, then resumed. "Shortly after the dawn of technology, the planet was covered with fission and fusion weapons, 50,000 of them! It's a wonder we're here at all. Anyways, he was instrumental in bringing all that to an end. They didn't tear down their arsenals over night, but it was a beginning. Well that's what I've read anyways."
They talked for several minutes about how strange it must have been; dozens of countries armed with powerful weapons, poised to blow each other up over territorial squabbles or ancient religious feuds. "It's a wonder we survived." reiterated Julie. "After all, the Baileens didn't, and they're a lot like us."
"Well they survived after a fashion." corrected John. "But it took them 200,000 years to rebuild a technological society."
"Yes, but what a waste." replied Julie. "Were we smarter, or did we just get lucky?"
fortunately John didn't have to respond to her unanswerable question. "You have arrived." announced the car in a synthesized voice that was familiar, yet somehow different. The vowels were shifted just a bit to match the local dialect. You wouldn't call it an accent - it wasn't that pronounced - just a slight difference in harmonics and durations. They stepped out of the car and walked slowly towards the main entrance, enjoying the cool night air. Short sleeves, no shades, just like walking on Mars.
John held the door for Julie as she entered the lobby of the hotel. It was a spacious room with a vaulted ceiling and fluted columns built into the walls. Plush couches and chairs lined the walls, while a fountain in the center of the room sent jets of water streaming into high parabolic arcs that fell back into the pool at Isaac Newton's command. Julie stopped to watch while John went over to the front desk. She deflected the waterfall with her hand, directing the cascade this way and that. After she got splashed a couple of times she left the fountain and caught up with John at the front desk.
"John Farsee." repeated the clerk as he typed the name into his computer. "Oh yes, the energy conference. Antarctic Power and Light has taken care of everything. You're in room 425, one of our embassy suites. The door panel has been programmed with your hand print, so just go right up."
"Thank you." said John as he stepped to the side. After Julie checked in, they went upstairs, dropped her bags off at room 402, then went over to check out his embassy suite.
"You got the better room, and that's for sure." exclaimed Julie, as her eyes took inventory. "Two beds, wide screen tv, Internet, a desk, and ..." She poked her head around the corner. "There's even a jacuzzi!"
John followed her gaze and saw the hot tub, with a table along one side and a small fridge at the end. Cupboards were built into the wall, just above the table. "I'll bet there's wine in the fridge." predicted John as he opened the door. Indeed there was, along with small bottles of spirits for mixed drinks. He took out some wine and offered it to Julie. "Take a bottle back to your room; I don't need all this."
She motioned it away. "Maybe after dinner, I'm starving!"
John opened the cupboards and saw a number of glasses, plates, and utensils. He closed them again and turned back to Julie. "Yeah, the snack on the plane was less than exciting. I think there's a nice restaurant downstairs, just off the lobby."
The buffet was impressive; no need to look at a menu. Fresh fish from Lake Baikal, lobster and shrimp from the Arctic Sea, roast beef, corn on the cob, steamed broccoli, and a dessert table that wouldn't quit. John put two pieces of broiled fish on his plate, and rice and broccoli and corn. Julie filled her plate with seafood, twice baked potatoes, and salad. "Let's eat here again tomorrow night." suggested John, and Julie agreed. They ate and talked, and went back for seconds, and then dessert. John gave the waitress a big tip, since the company was paying, then looked at his watch.
"It's almost 9, shall we call it a day?"
Julie thought for a moment, as though she were solving a complex problem in particle physics. But there was no math in her head; only models of human behavior. John thought it was a simple question, but he waited patiently for the answer. Finally a billion neurons fell into a synchronized pattern that represented consensus, and Julie answered his question with another question.
"John, do you have an open marriage?"
Now it was John's turn to pause and reflect. "No," he said slowly, "but I'm flattered. Thank you. And right now, I wish I could say yes." Julie was attractive in every way: physically, intellectually, and emotionally. He could have loved both her and Maggie, without contradiction, but that wasn't the commitment he made 14 years ago. So he set it aside, the way you might say no to a piece of pie.
"I understand." she said as she rose from her chair. "I may stroll around the hotel and see what I can find. I'll see you in the morn..."
John didn't want to lose the spirit of her kind invitation, so he interrupted her in a quiet voice. "Julie, if you don't get a better offer, we could just spend time together. We can watch tv, talk, play chess, drink the wine in my fridge; I very much enjoy your company." In the end, love was not about sex, and they both knew it. Love went above and beyond, as far as the imagination could dream.
"My chess goes downhill after two glasses of wine." Julie said with a chuckle. Then she looked straight into his eyes and touched his hand. "I don't think I'm going to find a better offer anywhere around here. Let's go."
They stopped by the game room to pick up a chess set. "If I'm playing chess with you, then you have to play Go with me." she insisted.
"I've never heard of it." said John.
"They haven't either." said Julie as she rummaged through the boxes on the bottom shelf. "They've got just about every game here except Go." Julie went back to the front desk and asked the concierge to scare up a Go game from somewhere, and have it delivered to room 425.
"Go is the oldest game of strategy," explained Julie as they stepped in to the elevator, "much older than chess."
"Played by the japanese I suppose." mumbled John as they passed the second floor.
"Yes, very popular with the Japanese, but it was invented in China, thousands of years before technology." The elevator door opened and they stepped out on to the fourth floor. "You'll like it, and here's the interesting part. It was the first game of strategy, and it's probably the most challenging. Computers have been chess champions almost since technology began, but today, after a billion years of progress, the computer is still no match for an 8 dan player."
this peeked John's interest; a game of monumental complexity. He put his hand against the panel and the door slid open. He and Julie stepped in and the door slid shut behind them. Julie still held the chess set with both hands. It was a heavy, elegant set with pieces made of polished jade.
"Hot tub?" asked John.
"Sure." said Julie.
John took the set from her and went into the next room. He placed the set on the table next to the tub and started the water. "Pick out some music." he called as he arranged the pieces on the board. Julie powered up the entertainment center and skimmed through reams and reams of music. "Something old." she thought to herself. "As old as chess itself, but not classical. John listens to classical all the time." She finally settled on the Beatles. The computer displayed a dozen albums, but she simply pushed shuffle-play.
"If you wear red tonight. Remember what I said tonight."
The harmony was beautiful, but how to control the speakers? The song was half over before she figured out how to activate the speakers around the hot tub.
"Great." shouted John when he could finally hear the music over the running water. "I haven't heard, er um, Beatles isn't it, in years."
Julie came into the room and they both got undressed and climbed into the tub. "Pawn to king 4, and wine." said Julie, all in one breath. She stood up and pulled a bottle out of the fridge, then took two glasses out of the cupboard. She poured while John moved pawn to queen 4. They played, and drank, and talked, and listened to the old songs. Julie put up a pretty good fight, but John was a grand master player, and by the second glass the game was all but over.
"Do you want to be black this time?" asked John, but he was interrupted by the call button. A response panel was within easy reach, so he touched the view icon. He saw the concierge, standing in the hall with a box under his arm. "Good grief, he found one." thought John to himself. He pushed the talk button and said, "I'll be right there." He climbed out of the tub, dripped on the mat for just a moment, then went to the door.
The concierge was startled at first, but quickly regained his composure. "I see you're enjoying our jacuzzi."
"Yes, very nice." said John as he took the box. "Just charge this to my room, and, here's a little something for..." He reached for his wallet, but came up empty in every sense of the word. "Just a minute." he said as he scurried back into the room. The concierge already had his foot in front of the sensor, so the door would not close. He rarely missed a tip. John returned with a 5 leppa note in his hand and the concierge smiled. "Thank you." he said as he pulled his foot away from the sensor, allowing the door to close quietly.
John took the box over to Julie. "I think this is for you." He got back into the tub, moved the chess set to the side, opened the box, and placed the board on the table. "What's with these black and white stones?"
Julie explained the rules, and they tried to play, but the bottle was empty and neither of them was capable of any real strategy. After a half hour the board was covered in stones, mostly white. when Julie gobbled up the last sizable swath of black territory, John was forced to resign. "Let's go to bed." he declared, and Julie didn't argue. It was getting late.
John opened the drain and let the water run out of the tub while he put the chess set away. Julie packed the Go set away, and they left the boxes on the table. Maybe they'd play again tomorrow.
Julie went back into the bedroom and picked the bed nearest the window. She was already climbing in when John finished drying off. He got into the other bed and looked across the room towards her. She really was beautiful, in every way.