James Scotson - Planets Falling

Fen wiped his mouth with a napkin, set it down on the table, and hopped up. “Take me on a tour nephew. Verat, care to join us?”

Verat set down his fork. “The last thing I want to do is see more of this place.” He stretched out and ordered a slice of cake. HM obliged. Verat promptly complained that the slice was too small.

Fen’s evening was spent surveying the great Platform, with his only nephew. Fen marveled at the great power plant, miles of bio-fusion engines generating the energy of a star. Translucent cylinders glowed azure with microbes converting the waste of hundreds of biological decks into gases to be compressed in the fusion generators. If they could see within the magnetic fields, they would be blinded instantly by artificial sunshine.

The microbiology labs were pristine. Thousands of incubators lined the vast space. Within each steely column, new strains of life were giving birth, living their tiny lives, and occasionally dying, each holding promise for a new world. A few technicians shuffled from panel to panel, tapping away and swiping at their data tablets. All of this information was funneling into a vast network. At the center of this web, attempting to make sense if it all, was a huge quantum computer, technically HM’s mother. She was a sensational machine. But still limited in her ability to think creatively compared to the intellect of most sentients.

The final stop was Grey’s favorite environmental deck. This one had been baking for about five years. Growth of the vegetation within the deck was accelerated and was there purely for Grey’s amusement. He took a pinch of old earth, a healthy helping of zenat, a dash of nauron, and a mixture of a dozen other worlds. He called this his rainbow garbage deck. Every color possible grabbed the eyes and sent them spiraling into wonder. Feathery purple ferns shaded orange moss. Emerald tufts of grass were surrounded by soil of the deepest blue.

“Cobalt in the soil? Genius. Do you remember that ancient movie about a place called Oz? This spot reminds of the place where the munchkins lived.” Fen stepped off the walkway to pick one of the reddest old earth apples he had ever seen. He threw it over to Grey and then plucked one for himself.

“This place makes me happy. I come here when I think about you all. It doesn’t cure the homesickness. But it does push it back a bit. Who says scientists can’t be creative?”

“Grey, I’m an old man. I will be stepping down from the council soon. I’ll recommend you to take my place. No guarantees. But I have a few favors to cash in.”

Grey sat on a large plant that resembled a pink tree stump with yellow tendrils. “I’d have loved for dad to see this.”

“He would approve.” Fen threw the apple core into the grass. Perhaps a new sapling would be peeking out in the coming weeks. “Did I ever tell you about the time your father and I stole the cart from the old lady that lived in our neighborhood?”

“Yes, Uncle Fen.” Grey sighed. “It’s time to call it a day. I’m sure you’re exhausted. We’ll get a fresh start in the morning. Follow me over to the exit over here.” Grey stood up and smoothed his pants.

The voice of HM seemed to respond. “Defabrication cycle intitiated Dr. Commons.”

Grey’s face contorted in confusion. “HM, what do you mean? I’ve authorized nothing. Cease the sequence immediately.”

HM was uncharacteristically silent. “HM. Respond. Now.”

“Five minutes until initiation sequence completed. Charging capacitors. Currently at 10 percent capacity.”

Fen turned toward Grey. “I presume we’re in trouble at 100 percent?”

“Holy shit. Defabrication is the automated reset for an environmental deck. A charge of plasma blows through the entire deck. Eveything’s burned to its component materials and flushed into the generators for reconstitution. This can only be initiated by a few of us. And the failsafes prevent HM from going foward with one of us on deck. This has got to be a malfunction.”

They ran to the entryway. It was locked. HM calmly noted that the capacitors were at 50 percent.

Fen looked at Grey with a strange mixture of panic and amusement. “Is this a malfunction where the interface thinks we are about to be immolated? Or is it like we’re really about to be ashed?”

Grey looked at the panel by the door. The yellow flashing light was telling. His guts lurched. “It’s the latter. Follow me quickly. We might make it.”

Fen followed Grey to a small hatch in the floor. He pried it open with a stick. “Here, jump in.” He hopped in, falling next to Fen with a crunch. Something in his knee gave way and stars were everywhere. Through the pain he gasped, “Daddy reach up and grab the door.” Then all went silent.

Above their heads, a technological version of hell was unleashed. The bejeweled menagerie of life was instantaneously wiped clean in a fury of brilliant, clean, white fire. Cavernous vents in the walls opened simultaneously, gulping the flames and sending them to the Platforms’s enormous belly. The heat in the storage container was unbearable. Grey only vaguely sensed it. Fen writhed on the floor, trying desperately to inhale the superheated air.

“Sequence 1 complete. Cycling down.” HM’s voice was everywhere, nowhere. The temperature in the hold dropped mercifully. Fen tried to breathe but his lungs felt twice their size and full of cotton. His exposed skin was taut and blistered. “For God’s sake, someone help us,” Fen croaked.

HM responded in its loud monotone. “Emergency noted. Help is on the way. Stay calm.”

Fen rode the pain for centuries in his mind. Bright light. Voices. A human with glowing skin and black, vacant eyes was hovering. Was he seeing a ghost?

Fromer ordered his team to put Fen and Grey into stasis capsules. These gadgets bathed victims in a cocoon of medicinal juices and dropped them into a deep sleep. He announced in his deep, wheezy voice, “The burns on their skin are not a concern. I am worried about the damage to their lungs. Place them on ventilators immediately. Make sure that they mend Grey’s fractures. The longer we wait, the more likely the complications will be severe.”

As the capsules were shuttled away to the medical deck, Fromer surveyed the environmental lab. The air was extremely hot but tolerable. His spiracles could handle the unpleasant sensation. The walls and floor were barren and brilliantly white — no evidence of the kaleidoscope of life remained. The ceiling 100 feet above was barely visible, emanating a grey sheen. An overcast sky after the storm. What on mars happened here , he thought to himself. This is impossible .

An hour later, Fromer sat at his console attempting to reconstruct the accident.

“HM. Who authorized the defabrication?”

“Dr. Commons.”

“I doubt that. He and his uncle were in the lab when you tried to cremate them. Why did you initiate the sequence when sentients were on deck?”

“No sentients were present. Failsafes were working properly.”

“I did not ask you about the status of the failsafe. If you were not a machine, I would think that you are trying to cover your posterior of its silicon and plastic. Provide all personnel location logs for the past day. Use a typical spatial analysis to let me know when any of them would have come near your central terminal. Also, provide me with your most recent backup file. Compare the two and report any mismatches.” If anyone had sabotaged HM, Fromer hoped they weren’t intelligent enough to alter the archives and cover their tracks.

“No one accessed my terminal in the past day. Both current files and backups confirm.”

“At what terminal did Commons authorize the defabrication cycle?”