West of Nothing

50. Simulation Theater

"Build a completely self-contained ecosystem, like a greenhouse on steroids," Corny finished. "I have some ideas on that actually."

"So that's what you've been up to lately."

Corny flushed. "When work started shifting to the labs, I found myself with some extra time on my hands. I knew we'd need something like this eventually, so I threw together some plans based on simulation theaters I've designed in the past."

Mason realized that maybe he wasn't the only one who had been feeling a bit useless lately.

"All right, show me what you've got," HotDamn said.

Corny put up two images. The first was an external view that looked like a smaller version of Apple headquarters, a sleek glass and girder ring. "The torus shape creates an unbroken track with clear visibility from two sides. There's plenty of room to roam but no way out. Access is controlled through double airlocks here and here."

The inside view showed an Edenic scene with big-leafed plants casting shadows over a meandering rill. So that was what Mason had glimpsed before. She indicated what looked like the trunk of a palm tree but, on closer inspection, was some sort of duct. "Air vents would be covered in a pinhole mesh even an X-Bot can't squeeze through. The pipes have one-way valves with seal-off zones and runoff is collected in traps after passing through micro-filtration. There are no exposed wires and all fixtures are covered with safety glass. The whole thing sits on a sealed concrete foundation."

"Seems like you've thought of everything." HotDamn turned to Skunkworks. "What do you think of this?"

"Doesn't look like a bad piece of engineering, if you ask me." This was high praise coming from the old engineer.

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" HotDamn began typing.

"What are you doing?" Corny asked.

"Calling up the major." A moment later, the face of Major Zeus appeared, looking even more washed out in jumbo high def.

"What is it? Now really isn't the best—"

"Corny has a proposal to make," HotDamn said. "All right, Corny, your show."

"Uh, right," Corny collected herself. "So now that we have ten of the, um, X-Bot specimens, and we're anticipating the possibility of receiving even more, we're starting to think that our, um, current research accommodations are insufficient for, um, conducting group-based experiments in a scientifically controlled manner that, um..." She rambled on in this vein for a couple minutes. A few sentences into her spiel, Major Zeus dropped his gaze and resumed whatever he had been doing before.

"Hey! Are you paying attention?" HotDamn cut in.

Major Zeus looked up, blinked. "Sorry, what was that?"

"We need a state-of-the-art eco-simulation theater. Now."

"A what?"

"One of these. I just sent you a picture."

The major did something with his mouse. After a few seconds, his brows dipped and he pursed out his lips. "This looks... ambitious. I would need to get budgetary approval for it."

"How long will that take?"

"Best case, a few days. Then another week or two for construction, I'm guessing. If crews worked around the clock."

"Who are we kidding?" Skunkworks said. "This plan is dead on arrival. We don't have a week to spare, much less a month. If the kooks are right, the aliens could be invading by then."

"Look major," HotDamn said. "We need you to pull a rabbit out of a hat here. If we can't get a proper research area, we're kaput."

The major considered this, shook his head. "I'm sorry, but this just isn't feasible on short notice."

"Then tell us what is feasible," HotDamn persisted. "This is a high-tech research base, is it not? You must have something here we can use."

The major rested his chin on his fist in a thinking man pose, or maybe he was just giving his neck a rest. "Hold on a sec..." he said at last and began pecking on his keyboard. He frowned at the screen, then nodded. "We have some concrete containment units for testing chemical compounds. Some of them haven't seen use since the Cold War. They are sealed up pretty tight but the piping and venting would have to be re-run along with any electronics. Sending a picture your way."

HotDamn received it and put it on-screen. It was a simple concrete dome, discolored and sand-blasted from decades of exposure to the elements. It looked squalid and ugly next to the sleek glass torus.

"The engineers call them con-domes," the major said, looking apologetic.

"Oh, no. We are not calling it that," Corny said.

HotDamn grinned from ear to ear. "We'll take it! How soon can you get us the layout?"

"On its way."

"We're going to need some extra hands to get it outfitted."

"Hands is one thing we have a lot of here," said the major.

Even with a small army of laborers at their disposal, the task was overwhelming. The walls of the not con-dome had to be scanned for cracks and any seams resealed. It already had a concrete floor, but a ground liner had to be laid down and contoured to provide a catchment system, then thousands of pounds of rocks and potting soil had to be hauled in and landscaped. Tiny streams and pools were created, followed by assorted fauna and even some crawlies and critters. New lighting had to be installed that used intense day spectrum bulbs. Meanwhile, tanks, generators and environmental systems had to be procured and set up with all their corresponding pipes, vents and wires. Anything with an opening—air exchanges, blowers, humidifiers, pipes and outlets—had to be thoroughly escape-proofed. In case of fire, a reactant spray that resembled a sudsy dish-soap would suck oxygen from the air. Finally, cameras and motion detectors were installed every few feet for keeping tabs on the X-Bots.

The day passed in a blur of activity. It felt like the early days of the project when everyone was heading in a dozen directions at once. There was no time for fretting or self-doubt. While Gabby worked out the software control systems, Doogie took over the electronics and Skunkworks handled plumbing and ventilation. Corny and Johnny worked on interior layout and lighting. Meanwhile, HotDamn handled surveillance and ran point. Mason was responsible for transporting the X-Bots, which was a bigger job than it seemed. His first task was to transfer Alpha, Bravo and Charlie into their own jars; there was no way the bell was going anywhere. The spray paint would be put to good use after all.

Not everybody was on board with the simulator. When Military Mannequin caught wind of it, she stopped by the Bridge to express her ire in person. What did they think they were doing, building fucking Jurassic Park out in the desert? She had seen that movie and didn't like the way it ended. But she hadn't tried to stop them, so that was a win in their book.

One day stretched into two. No one slept much, catching naps by slumping over onto their keyboard trays. It was late into the second day by the time they completed the final system checks and reviewed the escape-proofing.

Once the major sent down the okay, Mason and HotDamn were elected to transport the X-Bots to their new home. It was a dark walk along an empty dirt road. The amber lights of the compound did not reach far into the desert which stirred to a dry breeze. Mason wondered how many more X-Bots might be out there moving their way unseen across the landscape. He didn't feel frightened, just exposed, like walking through a sand lot at night and not knowing where the anthills were.

They made the drop off and were soon back on the Bridge. HotDamn gave the command, "Let's uncork 'em!"

Mason triggered the pop-off lids and they watched in anticipation as the X-Bots came crawling out of their jars.