RoboNomics

Chapter 67 - 2016

We're aboard the soda can, which Rupert referred to as a space elevator, for only a few hours.

"This is why it had to be the Galapagos, Ms. Anderson," Rupert explains as we strap into seats that are anchored to the wall instead of the floor. "The elevator has to be on the equator, and Volcán Wolf is the perfect place: a peak on that central line."

"How did you figure all this out?" Austin shouts into his headset over the growing roar of the craft's revving rocket engines. I adjust mine in an effort to make it slightly more comfortable.

"I did nothing of the sort. It was their kind." Rupert gestures towards a lanky silver android. It's busy folding itself into an alcove for launch. "They designed and built it."

The view is unbelievable. As Earth recedes, it fills the little windows on either side. It's so perfect, with the pale line of atmosphere curving above it. 

From this height, I can't see any of the turmoil that's happening below. I can't tell where people are suffering. There's no life, no death, no joy or sorrow. Just an azure sphere, quietly floating in the vacuum.

Am I so anxious to leave it? I ask myself. 

Leaving the bounds of Earth means that I can forget the ruin that my life was while I lived there. But what about everyone I've left down there? They have no way to escape that hell. Do I, safely away, care about their fates at all?

When the space elevator stops, we disembark onto the new International Space Station, built with comfort in mind. The carbon nano tubes that form the elevator's cable attach to the Station. 

The last I heard, the old ISS was still orbiting, although it should have been retired years ago. But the last I heard news of the outside world was before Toronto had imploded into civil riot and strife. And it was an entirely different world now from the one I'd known.

From there, we board the Shuttle Plutus, which will be our home for the next six to eight months.

#

I sit in front of a tray stacked with food. There are greasy French fries, bacon-wrapped scallops, fried chicken. 

And in the middle: a rich, dark chocolate mousse cake. My mouth waters at the sight of it. But then I look up.

The bot that we called Teacher, the Interactive Instructional Unit; I.I.U. for short, walks towards me. She lifts the dishes of food from the tray one by one. 

There's nothing I can do to stop her. She takes all the food away before I manage to have a single bite. Then she smiles at me: that vapid, lifeless smile.

I wake up with a start. I roll over and look at the time. 3:23 a.m. stands out in green LED numbers on an InvisiScreen embedded in the bedroom wall. 

Just when I thought I was starting to get the hang of sleep again, another nightmare disturbs me.

Careful not to wake Austin, I slip out of bed. I wrap a flowing white cardigan around myself, and then I pad down the hallway towards the main lounge. I manage to stumble only once as the zero gravity outside and the imitation of Earth's pull inside fight to bowl me over.

It's been a month since we first boarded the Shuttle Plutus. We've been flying through interplanetary space towards our destination. 

When Rupert first told me that we were heading to Mars, I thought I'd gone temporarily deaf. And I still don't believe it. All I know is that we're speeding towards the Red Planet at mind-boggling speeds, but that it will still take us six months to get there.