Creations (17 page)

For the first time in weeks they could see a way ahead of them, and now they had more than just the financial rewards to motivate them. “We’ve got to make it work,” Ross said before he left. “Just to prove how wrong that idiot Oliver was.” For Ross at least, that was probably more of an incentive than the gold itself.

Tyrell was gone, that much was clear, and in all likelihood she wouldn’t be hearing from him anytime soon. Anna didn’t know what had caused him to pull out of negotiations, but whatever it was didn’t necessarily detract from the value of what he’d been trying to sell her. She sat back from her latest trawler run and touched the window controls, letting the humid Singapore air mix with the output of the aircon. The traffic noise far below helped her calm her mind, organise her thoughts.

Lowrie: his was the name at the top of her list right now. For although Tyrell’s information would have given her a valuable insight into whatever ESOS was doing, it wouldn’t have been her only route into the company. Years ago someone else had contacted her, some underpaid low level manager in the ESOS Washington office, and ever since then she’d had a way into their systems, a limited view of the administrative side of their operations. He’d long since left the company, but the trawler socket he’d left behind for her was still running, and the through flow of résumés and contracts had been mildly profitable ever since.

That little hook had now scored a bigger bite, and Lowrie’s name was all over it.

It seemed to have been some sort of company emergency that had prompted the sudden recruitment of those three names, Lowrie, Biehn and Rudd, some breakdown in a prestige project still hidden from the outside world. “Essential skills”, was the phrase she saw on the internal messages, “vital that they are brought on board”. The last two names were almost certain to accept, that much seemed clear to whoever was running the programme, but the first, Lowrie himself, seemed to be a different matter. And when she dug deeper, she saw her first hints of how they’d decided to persuade him.

She needed a new source, a willing accomplice on the inside,
someone motivated to help her in her search. Just how would Max Lowrie react, she thought, if he knew the lengths ESOS had really gone to to recruit him?

* * *

The completion of the Prospector design was a surprisingly low-key event. Considering the number of weeks they’d spent passing plans and schematics back and forth along the secure lines to the island, it was almost an anticlimax when they brought all the subsystems together to form the final blueprints. The workload had been intense; for Max the only respite had been Roy’s trial, his own contribution being limited to one day at the Colorado Springs justice court on a telepresence link to the hearing in West Virginia. He had little to add to the evidence already on file. Beyond that, he’d kept his head down and worked with the others.

And when Victor, Safi and Max saw the finished plans for the first time, it seemed hard to imagine just how much effort had gone into producing the pictures that were in front of them. When they called Ross to tell him the finalisations were on their way, he was even more surprised at their reactions.

“You could at least smile, guys!” he said. “I saw your faces and thought someone had died!”

“We’re just tired,” Safi told him. “It’s been a long few weeks. We’ll get the champagne out once we’re back, okay?”

* * *

It seemed strange to Max to arrive back at the island the same way they had done all those weeks ago. This time, though, he wasn’t a stranger here, and it felt more like he was returning home. The usual oppressive heat had returned, and the only sign of the storms they’d left behind was a few fallen trees, most of
which had been cleared away. In fact now there was a real sense of excitement in the air, and even Max’s reservations weren’t enough to stop him picking up on it. They’d got so far with the work, and so many of his conditions had been agreed to, that part of him was eager to see just how well they’d met the challenge they’d set themselves.

* * *

The next morning they assembled at the complex again, this time in the workshops that made up the lower level. The ceiling was about twenty feet above their heads, and three huge sliding doors led out onto concrete ramps that sloped down to the harbour. Two of the doors had been shuttered down like blinds, but the far one was open, and bright sunlight was streaming in through the gap. But what really got their attention was parked just inside the centre door, surrounded by a framework of gantry lights and lifting gear. The Prospector itself, vehicle number one, ungainly and functional in appearance but impressive nonetheless. It measured almost twenty feet from bow to stern, and was almost four feet in height, though less than half of that would be above the waterline when it was afloat. Once the sails were attached it would be taller, but from the look of it, those were the only major components that were missing.

The grey-green colour of the hull gave the thing an almost menacing appearance, an artefact of the algal cellulose which, Ross had observed, would put the Prospector population somewhere within an existing food chain, though as an offshoot rather than a link. Once processed and purified, the substance found its way into almost all the non-electrical systems of the design. Compared to steel or conventional composites it was poor, but here it was plentiful and versatile.

Max was initially surprised to see it so close to completion, but then again it had been designed to be easy to build. Once out
in open water it would be building copies of itself every eight days, using nothing but the facilities on board, so for a dedicated workshop staff to construct the first one so fast wasn’t such a shock.

However it was still an experience, to see with their own eyes something that so far had only existed in their minds or on their screens. Beyond those first subscale prototypes, this was their first real, close-up, view. Safi’s reaction was the most telling, as she slowly walked up to it and ran her hand along the hull, nodding to herself. It was easy to forget that more than eight years had passed since she’d last done work like this, only to see that project abandoned halfway through. In many ways she’d waited longer for this moment than any of them.

Once she’d completed her walk-round inspection of the craft, she turned to face Victor.

“When’s the launch?”

“In five days time.”

* * *

Launch day came round quickly, and the final tests and preparations filled the time right up to the last minute. When the roll-out itself was due it seemed as if the entire ESOS staff were there to watch. Victor himself began the proceedings, taking his place in front of the crowd.

“Anyone who knows the history of the technology that we’ve created here will know that this day is the culmination of far more than just the months and weeks that we’ve invested. The ideas that inspired this project can be traced back to the nineteen forties, or maybe even earlier. And the name of the man whose work laid the foundations for us should also be familiar to us all. As Sir Isaac Newton once said, ‘If I have seen further, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.’ And for the past year we have been privileged to stand on the shoulders of one of the
greatest giants of them all, one who we are about to immortalise today with the launch of the first of our creations. However, the head start he gave us should not detract from the sense of achievement we all feel today. To take the theoretical analysis of self replicating automata — the hundred year old mathematical proof that such a thing is even possible — to take that proposition and turn it into hard physical reality, that is one of the greatest tasks any of us will ever be involved in. And we’ve done it. You’ve done it.”

Victor was talking to all of them at that point, but it was Safi that he looked at directly.

“All I want to do now,” he continued, “is to thank you, all of you, for the effort you have put in. So let me present the result of that effort, our first Prospector, the ‘John von Neumann’.”

At Victor’s signal the craft emerged from the workshop bay, and was slowly backed down the ramp on a trailer. The operator had to take it carefully through the door now that the sails were attached. Like upturned airplane wings pointing at the sky they left barely inches of clearance, but they made it through unscathed. The only difference between this craft and those that would follow was the name on the side, highly visible in large white letters against the dark green background.

Once in the water it floated free of the trailer and was swiftly reined in by the two-man crew of a waiting boat, ready to be towed out to the operating area. There were cheers when it began its journey out to the open sea, and Max and the others stood watching it for over five minutes while it left the harbour behind and was lost from view. The applause continued even after it had gone, as the euphoria and pride in what had been achieved infected everyone who had worked on it. Victor was beaming, Ross was cheering, and Safi was just standing there smiling, nodding to herself in quiet satisfaction.

“Let’s go inside and see how it gets on,” Victor said. An operations room had been set up in the complex, and they all hurried
in to watch the craft’s progress as the time of activation approached.

The cordoned off region of sea had been termed “the box” for ease of reference, and the planned activation point was on the near edge of the area. In the complex they watched the large view screens in silence as the craft was manoeuvred into position, ready for the switch-on. Then at last the towlines were unhooked, the towboat was positioned alongside, and one of the crew reached over to put the bridge piece in place: the final component which slotted into the Prospector’s hull and linked the generators to the controllers.

The act itself was as far from dramatic as it could get, but the tension in the operations room was unmistakable. No one made a sound as they waited for some sign of life from the machine. Then, finally, came the moment of relief as the craft took its first independent action, rotating its aerofoil sails to the correct angle to the wind, moving its rudder hard to one side, and preparing to head off on its journey.

The life cycle of the Prospector had been carefully planned. First, it would choose a position in the box where its material collection and replication phase would take place. Then, it would hold that position as steady as possible while it processed the surrounding seawater, extracting all the solid sediments, organic matter and dissolved chemicals that made up its raw materials. As these stores accumulated it would then begin to build, putting the right materials in the right places to form exact copies of the same structures and mechanisms that it itself was made from. And all the while, somewhere inside its chemical plant, its store of gold would be growing.

Once its copy was complete it would activate it, release it into the open sea, then head for a predetermined drop-off area near the island where it would deposit its harvest of gold into shallow water for collection. Then the cycle would be repeated, but this time with two Prospectors at work instead of one.

The first day of operation was uneventful, as the craft kept station against the slow surface currents, pumping water through its processing plant. Nonetheless, the boat crews kept a constant vigil over it, working in shifts, watching for any unexpected developments. Just over twenty-four hours later however, the next critical phase was due to begin, when the replication process itself would get underway.

There were so many unknowns about this process, so many ways it could go wrong, that it had to be observed up close by the people who had planned it in the most detail. And luckily, the first stages at least would take place in daylight. So once the boat had returned to relieve the last boat crew, Max and Safi were sent out in their place.

* * *

They found the Prospector easily enough, and pulled in alongside it. Not all of its upper structure was strong enough to walk on and the few secure footholds weren’t marked, so for safety they had to get as close as they could with their own vessel.

“Right, let’s drop back a bit and get a look inside the chamber,” Safi said once they were alongside.

Max adjusted the controls slightly and the boat manoeuvred back toward the stern of the craft, while Safi peered round some of its superstructure to get a better view of the layering chamber, where the components for replication were made. It was difficult to see from the side; the actual workings of the vehicle were all nestled between the two flotation tubes, but eventually she saw what she was looking for.

“It’s forming the first section all right,” she reported back, both to Max and the others listening in on the island. Max came over to join her and see for himself. The layering chamber was really just a flat area sheltered from sunlight and sea spray where
the printing arm laid down the materials to make each section. It wasn’t completely enclosed, but it was still hard to see inside.

“Looks good from here,” Max confirmed. “We’ll have to wait until it starts the next one before we can be sure though.”

This first section to be made was one of the least interesting and least challenging for the machine, just the rear end cap for the starboard floatation tube, a hemispherical structure with a honeycomb of stiffeners inside it. However it was a good first test for the process. From what they could see it seemed to be a third of the way through the piece.

“All right, just keep us informed,” Victor said from the island, and shut down the link.

Sunset was less than an hour away, and out at sea the air was already starting to cool down. Now it was just comfortably warm. Max went over to the open-air console and sat down on one of the side benches. Safi followed him and took one of the facing seats.

“Max, there’s something I need to say to you.”

“Go on,” he said, intrigued.

“I’m sorry I lost my temper when we were back in the complex that time. The things you were saying, about how we should be careful, you were right to tell us how you felt. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.”