Maxwells Demon Ch 06 08

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction. All characters are legal adults and over 18.

Foreword:

A recap from Chapters 1-5:

Jennifer and John have discovered a strange particle while conducting mining operations for CoreX. Jennifer enlists the help of Greg, a compassionate but disillusioned AI researcher to help locate the particle's source.

There has never been a stable artificial general intelligence. Greg reluctantly agrees to create artificial life again to help solve Jennifer's data set.

Though he'd previously only visited the android sex houses for AI research, Greg, in a weak moment, has sex with Heather068, and after events that take place, he wonders if the datanet rumors of a distributed intelligence known as the 9th bit could be more than fantasy.

Greg's new AI succeeds in tracking down the exotic matter known as void strands, and Jennifer conducts science experiments on it, suffering a minor disaster while discovering its peculiar properties.

The funding for his project is in jeopardy, and he begs Jennifer to help.

Notable acronyms:

ADXP: Advanced deep space exploration. A space-based military organization.

ATM: Artificial thought model, the name given to artificial general intelligence.

Eureka 5261: A stable asteroid at the Mars/Earth L5 point.

ISS: Intra Solar Survey, much like our current NASA

MOTC: Mars orbital traffic control

** Chapter 6: MOTC flight hearings at Bellona **

Bellona was the largest orbital structure ever constructed. The two counter-rotating habitat rings in Mars's orbital space produced Earth Gravity. If you had enough money, you lived in Bellona. Business meetings, foreign affairs, expensive dates, or anyone who desired an earth gravity for comfort could use Bellona, in Jennifer's case it was to attend an MOTC hearing which was required after declaring an emergency during space flight.

Micks and Wheels, dressed in their ISS formals, along with John in his ADXP uniform, all walked alongside Jennifer.

"Remember what ISS stands for; maybe this will remind the stuffy bureaucrats why we're here, that sometimes danger and a few accidents are part of the job. Southspin corridor three, room 23 left, this is it," Micks said.

"Please take a seat," said the clerk attending the entryway.

Three STSB (Space Traffic Security Board) representatives sat in the front at a semicircle desk. The exterior door closed.

"Let's begin. Flight Captain Micks, First Officer Wheels, and Flight Captain John Colby, please identify your presence," said the woman in the center of the panel.

Micks pressed her thumb into a panel, as did John and Wheels.

"The rest of you are here as witnesses because of your attendance during the flight operations. Do each of you understand your rights and attendance requirements for this hearing?"

"Yes, Maam," Jennifer, William, and Tad replied.

"Let me begin by saying I found this incident quite interesting, and I'm pleased that no loss of life occurred.

I've reviewed your report of the LDR failure Captain Micks. You reported 82% LDR capacity before departure. Why didn't you request a full top-off before leaving the dock?"

"It was within flight tolerance, we didn't want to refile our flight plans as we were uncertain of our ability to generate new flight plans to our target if we waited," Micks replied.

"And these plans were filed with plots from Ms. Jennifer Wenzlat from CoreX as I understand it. Ms. Wenzlat, were you made aware of the LDR capacity at take off, and were you asked if a replot was possible?"

"I overhead the LDR capacity during the checklist. I was not asked if it was possible to replot; however, the statement is true, I would not have been able to regenerate the flight plans. I suspect Captain Micks knew this," Jennifer said.

"Refrain from speculation, that's my job, Ms. Wenzlat."

"Yes, Maam."

"Captain Colby, your logs from Scoope 1 report seeing a, and I quote: 'multicolor haze, like the light from a lensed star' surrounding ISS 328 during one of the science experiments. You imply in your logs that this might have been the cause of structural damage to ISS 328's nose emitter. The log also indicates you contacted them after witnessing this. Do you, Captain Micks, or Captain Colby care to elaborate any additional details on this?"

"I cannot offer insight beyond what is present in the report," Micks said.

John nodded his agreement.

"I see, then it seems all we have to go on is the materials reports from the incident investigation lab which I will now share with you:

Molecular degradation of nozzle filaments, likely cause: Failure of radiation shielding in the reactor heat exchanger causing minor transmutation of cooling metal, and subsequent nozzle erosion.

The recommended procedure is to replace the reactor blanket."

Micks mumbled to Wheels, "That's ridiculous, there was nothing wrong with the reactor blanket, it was sealed when we returned."

"I'm sorry, was there something you wished to share with the board, Captain Micks?" the STSB representative said.

"No Maam. My apologies. I was out of order."

The woman on the left pressed the datapad gently down from the representative who had been speaking. "If I may... Captain Micks, I find the data you reported on this so-named void particle fascinating, and I can appreciate what might be inferred from each of your reports; however, it's simply too controversial, and beyond the capabilities, or charter, of this board to explore. We must go with what our science and labs can tell us."

"And I'd recommend that each of you take time to familiarize yourself with the contents of the lab reports. This will help avoid confusion, should you find yourself discussing the incident with anyone outside this room. I'm sure we can all appreciate the need for clarity, can't we Captain Micks?" The third STSB representative said.

"Clarity is paramount, Maam," Micks said.

"Very well then, now that we're all in agreement with our comprehension of the lab report," the woman in the center said, "we'll move on. We find no fault in the outbound operational procedures employed by the ISS 328 flight crew, or the experiments performed in the service of Ms. Wenzlat.

The next matter of discussion is the unauthorized abandonment of equipment during the mission, or what has become known on the Mars station as the L5 turd.

Jennifer noted Micks swallowing hard to suppress a laugh. The ability of the STSB representative to deliver what she knew was a station slang term with such a straight face was unequaled. Apparently, the discarded Whipple shields had settled into the stable L5 pocket with Eureka 5261. This could be good, it meant MOTC wouldn't need to dispatch an emergency cleanup crew.

"In your report, Captain Micks, you cite the extreme distance from standard traffic lanes, available life support, and the potential to avoid rescue tugs at your words 'great expense to ISS' in your decision to drop the equipment and start your return burn as quickly as possible after the LDR malfunction.

The board agrees with your assessment and finds this consistent with a strong sense of emergency piloting, placing the preservation of life first, then equipment. Where we do not agree is the deceleration procedures employed on your return.

When you realized your original burn plan was not feasible, you shut down the reactor. Our calculations indicate you could have attained capture velocity before slagging the reactor, yet you indicated this was not true in your logs, why?"

"I no longer trusted the onboard drive section telemetry. From my perspective, the reported LDR leak rates were not reliable. I factored in the error from our return burn calculation and made a judgment call that we were losing fluid faster than the computer reported. I shut down the drive.

To be honest, Maam, I didn't want a reactor slag on my record," Micks said.

"We appreciate your honesty, but you should know that concerns for the contents of your flight record do not take priority over the preservation of life, Captain Micks. In your report you neglected to call in for emergency deceleration tugs, instead relying on Captain Colby's vessel to attempt a deceleration maneuver. Was this decision also made out of concern for the contents of your flight record Captain?"

The representative was interrupted by a click on the entry door. A man entered, spoke with the clerk, exchanged a datacard, then approached the center desk.

"This is a closed session. Is there something I can help you with?" the STSB representative said sternly. The man spoke in quiet tones and exchanged his datacard. The representative's lower lip curled in surprise. She raised her eyebrows, "I see," she said. "Captain Micks, Captain Colby, it seems the remainder of the hearing will be handled by this gentleman's associates."

"Oh shit, I thought we were doing so good?" Micks said to Wheels.

The conference room doors opened again, and twelve figures, clad in class in the most expensive synthetic wool one could buy off Earth, marched in. Not one of the entourage took a single glance at the crew. A lump formed in Jennifer's throat. The last figure to enter was an elderly white-haired man. He distinguished himself from the others in cues one felt more than saw. He did not smile; however, his demeanor was pleasant. He wore an expression of intelligent thought for another place as if planning one step ahead of what was happening here. There was optimism and confidence in his face despite the presence of advanced years. Jennifer felt she knew the man, though the long years since she'd last seen him had changed his face.

"It seems we've attracted quite a diverse group," Wheels said. Micks, however, was staring at Jennifer.

"Do you know him, the old man?" Micks said.

"Yes, I think so," Jennifer said in a whisper.

"I am Mr. Nguyen. You are about to be told of a cooperative venture between ISS, ADXP, and CoreX.

I'm authorized for each agency to remove all obstacles to beginning this venture -- today, in this room.

Each of you will have personal legal representation for terms of employment, non-competes, clearance of debt, remediation or removal of court-ordered injunctions, and closure to any STSB investigations. In short, anything you could need," the white-haired man said, gesturing to the twelve men and women that preceded him into the room.

"You said closure to any STSB investigations. It seemed to me we were closed before you walked in," John said.

"Yes, Flight Captain Colby, we were -- and now we're not. I can assure those who choose to participate, that this meeting will be profitable in any dimension they care to ponder," Mr. Nyugen said.

"I don't know what that's supposed to mean," Micks said.

"Please, hold your questions for a moment. Let me continue. We intend to launch a mission to Eureka 5261 to retrieve the particle you've discovered and oversee its research. The L5 dump will be cleaned up by ADXP, all fines will be paid in full, your flight privileges will be maintained, and a no-fault finding will be entered for this hearing -- if you agree to release your interest in this void strand particle."

"What happens if we don't agree to this?" Micks asked.

"Six months of flight suspension, and a permanent mark on your flight record," lawyer one responded.

"That'll wreck me financially," Wheels said.

"Me too," Micks chimed in.

"Part of this transaction is we are buying your silence. You work for us, you are compensated well beyond your current levels, and we keep exclusive rights to everything you've found," lawyer number two said.

"You're blackmailing us with flight suspensions if we don't," John said.

"Technically the hearing was not over. I see no evidence of blackmail, we've simply informed you of one potential outcome of the hearing," lawyer number three said.

"As members of ISS and ADXP, I know what our answer has to be, what about you, Jennifer?" Micks said.

Jennifer nodded her agreement. Time stood still, or drew to an imperceptibly slow crawl. She was aware she'd signed documents, but it was a blur. When the room was clearing, and she felt no one else would overhear her conversation, she approached the white-haired Mr. Nyugen.

"I know you, Sir, don't I?" she said. "You knew my Father. You're the man who took me away from the steps of Expace after the Fuzanglong's disappearance, aren't you?"

"Young lady, if such an event did happen, it would have been long ago; I'm sure I would remember a face as vibrant and filled with life as yours. I'm afraid you have me mistaken for someone else."

** Chapter 7: Congratulations, it's a girl **

San Francisco Orbital was an airport, hundreds of years ago. It sat on the east edge of the San Francisco Bay, but now it occupied the entire land mass, all the way to the Pacific Ocean. Greg slumped into his chair, thankful his zero-g certification was over. ADXP had paid his way through college, and he was still in the reserves, but he was a land lover. He glided in an unpowered plane dropped from orbit as one would send an item down the drain.

He retrieved his datapad which contained a message and a map: "Dr. Kastel, you have an escort waiting, please meet our representative at security to avoid delay."

A man in a dark green suit met him at the security checkpoint.

"Hello Dr. Kastel, Jennifer sent me. I'm with the CoreX legal department to expedite your passage through security. I'm sure you're aware the minor litigation filed against you might delay your transit through security, and we have a dinner appointment to keep."

Greg frowned as he took the man's hand and shook it, "Of course. Dinner?"

"I believe you have an appointment with our research department lead, Jennifer, at the CoreX corporate conference center."

"Oh," Greg said, as he entered a waiting transport.

He was courteously deposited at a west-facing doorway embedded in a massive glass and steel building where Jennifer met him in the lobby. She offered a hand in greeting. A black sleeve extended down to the middle of her forearm, interrupted with cutouts that made a pattern of alternating diamonds showing her skin underneath. She escorted him to an interior room.

Inside the room, chairs made of exotic metals mined from the early asteroids abounded: monel and copper with cornflower blue cushions. The table Jennifer gestured to contained a datascreen which unfolded as they sat.

Pan-seared scallops caught Greg's eye, and he wasted no time selecting them from the menu.

"You just get back from zero-g certifications, and your first selection is from the oceans of Earth, an interesting choice," Jennifer said. "I usually need something with a little less flair after being in space."

"They taste really good, especially when soaked in butter," Greg replied, licking his lips unconsciously.

"You won't be disappointed, the food here is excellent, but I suppose anything would taste good after eating zero-g rations. Your request regarding funding for your AI sounded urgent. I hope you didn't mind my unplanned dinner."

Greg dipped a piece of the table bread into the oil and balsamic. He pulled a data node and set it on the table; it contained the most succinct presentation of his AI he could prepare.

"Mind? I'm grateful for it," he said, gesturing to the data node before taking a bite of the bread.

"I thought you might want to know who you are getting entangled with," he said, stuffing another piece of bread in his mouth; he was starving for real food.

"Entangled? Is this a date? As I recall you weren't interested when I asked you for drinks?" Jennifer replied.

Greg knew she was toying with him by her expression. "It's not," Greg said, forgetting his table manners, swallowing after he spoke.

"A casual business meeting then?" she said.

"Something real... me starving, talking with my mouth full when I shouldn't, an opportunity to see my sincerity, and for me to observe your reaction.

I want out Jennifer. I want out of the endless meetings and petty political fights over resources and budgets. I want a clear runway to do research.

You said you would help me if my AI was useful to you. Well, is it?"

Their entrees arrived. An overhead light reflected from Jennifer's sleek hair as she turned and thanked the server.

"It's an interview with Casey; that's what it calls itself," said Greg.

He consumed his plate, occasionally remembering his manners. Jennifer took sparing bites, but he wasn't surprised; she was watching the video on the table display. Her brow changed expression near the end of the presentation where Casey's theorizations on the origin of the void strand particle lived. There was interactive data, and she was manually scrolling through it.

"I'm ordering dessert if you don't mind?" he said.

"Yes, of course," she said, dismissing him for interrupting her while she stared at the presentation data.

A chocolate cake arrived. Jennifer paused the display while the server set the item on the table, then restarted it when they were a safe distance away. She looked up, then said, "I'm sorry, now it's me who has forgotten my manners. You look satiated, I hope everything met your expectations?"

"It was delicious. Thank you, both for dinner and agreeing to meet me," he said.

She brought her hand under her chin, pushing away the slight overlap of her hair and shoulder.

"What is your estimation of the state of humanity?"

"That's an odd starting point, but I'll play. I'd say we've solved the problems of sustainable energy and we've stopped fighting terrestrial wars. We seem complacent," Greg said.

"What if FTL travel was possible? What would you do with that?"

"Exploration. The greatest movements forward have been the result of stepping into the unknown."

"Have you ever been to Mars, the real Mars, planetside, Greg?"

"No, but it seems an amazing feat of engineering. I never thought we would have so many people living on another planet."

"An unmentionable fraction of the Earth's population. It turns out there's an exhaustible supply of people who want to live in biodomes. The truth is, no one is rushing to move off-planet.

I would answer the question differently: We have overcrowding, vast white-collar crime, and a stagnate consumer base.

We've maxed this rock we call Earth out. The commoner has no interest in space exploration for exploration's sake. We need what we've always needed: trade, economies, and physical habitable space, a modern version of Columbus's New World, a Goldilocks planet."

"And what would you do with this Goldilocks planet if you had one?" he asked, boyishly shoving another piece of cake down his throat. He was letting all decorum go, a week in a tin can had dehumanized him.

"You look as if you're ready to make a deal with the devil; is that what you think, the man who's worked in academia all his life coming to a big corporation?" she said, leaning forward, "Should I clip my hair into a set of devil's horns?"

"My research project requires 16 hexgrids of nano-tube partition space, commensurate power, and access to a high bitrate avatar," he said.

"I don't think you've been listening to me, that, or you still don't believe me. What I'm going to ask requires total commitment. You want your project to live as long as possible, correct?"

"Yes, that's my hope."

"I can give you 16 hexgrids of partition space and an independent fusion reactor."

"That's preposterous," Greg said, wiping a smear of chocolate icing from his lip. "No one has a reactor just lying around to give to someone."

"I do. I have research problems that need to be solved, the type only the inhuman capabilities of your artificial intelligence will stand a chance against."

"That's a lot to ask for a technology that, to date, doesn't exist. I know how these things end up working. How long would I have access to my project, assuming it survives?"