Alex Gore - The Cube

“So, you think education is useless?” Norman raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

“Well, not entirely, I personally prefer to read online about my subject and about the world as a whole. There’s all you need to know there, without having to be stuck in libraries for hours on end. The whole info in the world is only a click away from you. I analyze the data and reach my own conclusions about the truth, I don’t need some stuck in time professors who require from you to be a parrot. I guess, the most precious thing in universities is the medium. I learned more from my fellow students than rom the professors… And if they sense you are a bit more different, they crush you at once and then you can forget about good grades.” Michael paused for a moment. “Well, whatever, I hope we enjoy ourselves here.” They had been riding for two hours already.

In the second Rover Alan had not uttered a word, he followed the other SUV and his gaze was glued to the horizon.

“You cannot wait to see it, can you?” Sergey said, trying to break the oppressive silence.

“Yes. That might prove to be the greatest discovery in human history. Do you know what the probability of a submarine appearing in the heart of the biggest desert on the planet is? Zero!”

“It can’t be zero!” Hans contradicted, not wasting a second to pick on Alan.

“What do you mean, Hans?”, Marcela asked. “According to me the probability is too negligible or at least very small…”

“Small, yes, but not zero! The probability is somewhere between 0 and 1, but by all means different from 0 and 1”, Hans went on. “It’s always greater than zero and less than one. From a mathematical point of view something is always probable no matter how small the probability. We’ll just have to write a lot of zeroes between the decimal point and the last figure. Look, it doesn’t matter how improbable a given event is… If we accept that time and space are infinite, after numerous attempts it is probable that a monkey, jumping on a typewriter, might have composed “War and Peace”. Quite accidentally…”

“I would not choose this particular example, but I agree”, Sergey replied.

“Still, at the same time” Hans was now in his own domain and not a trace was left of his previous quietness “the occurrence of an event cannot be absolutely inevitable because that would contradict the laws of physics. In the same way that it is not 100 per cent sure that at this moment we are in the Libyan desert and lead this conversation, nothing else can be 100 per cent guaranteed. Absolutely sure events just do not exist neither in mathematics, nor in nature.

“How can it not be sure that we are now riding and talking?” Marcela asked in amazement.

“The event might be sure for our mind but the probability never equals one. It is always smaller”, Hans explained, not hiding his satisfaction of being able to lecture on Alan.

“So, nothing is sure. Then is it a sure thing it is not sure?” Alan replied, happy with his line of defense.

“It is one way of saying this, but you, Alan, are simplifying as always”, Hans went on with his lecture in a serious tone. “According to Newton’s physics and the Theory of probability a coin tossed up falls back on one side – either heads or tails. This is the so called ‘sure event’, but according to quantum physics it can be in both states simultaneously. Although, if we talk of probabilities, the coin may fall on its edge and not be on either side.”

“Okay, since you are so smart, would you be so kind as to enlighten us, ignoramuses, in what way exactly the submarine dragged itself here?” Alan was holding the steering wheel and never took his glance away from the windshield.

“Gentlemen, we are all nervous, we don’t want to burden ourselves more with mathematical equations, do we?” Marcela tried to stop the forthcoming argument.

“It did not drag itself, Alan, it just was here. It has always been here and now we are just coming to it.”

“What re you talking about? Have you gone mad? From where?”

“Not ‘from where’, Alan, but on which side of the edge are we and what do we see? The coin, standing on its edge, remember?” Hans smiled imperceptibly and relapsed in his usual silence.

Norman was the first to jump out of the truck and the soldier on duty saluted him, reporting to him in a hushed voice, so that the rest could not overhear.

The base was smaller than the one at Abu Minkar, it consisted of about a dozen military domes in amphitheatrical arrangement. They were all interconnected by soft couplings, similar to halls along the circumference of the base. In the middle of the semicircular space that was formed a 15-yard tall tower was rising and on top of it there was a guard with surveillance equipment and heavy armament. On one side of the base a tall rock stood, covered with less sand and overgrown with bushes, which was as if guarding the small valley and the camp in it. It was about three hundred yards tall and was hiding the sun, throwing a shadow over the entire base.

“What’s the machine gun for?”, Michael asked.

“To keep us from nosy people who ask too many questions”, Norman said and waved to them. “Come on, I am sure you all want to see it right away.”

They started climbing with a bent gait the narrow path along the sparsely vegetated barren rock. They were walking in a column of one and everybody tried to follow exactly the steps of the person in front. Nobody wished to be harmed by a poisonous snake or a scorpion. Very soon the camp was left far away down behind their back. While they were climbing, they were looking all the time at their feet, but when they stepped on the summit, they raised their heads and a sand desert was revealed before their eyes – a real ocean with gentle yellow waves, stretching all the way to the horizon. The dunes seemed at first glance void of any kind of life, beautiful and endless.

And then they saw it.

It was huge. Like the carcass of an enormous whale, washed out on the ocean shore. A thick body, once sleek and perfectly formed, that swam to the beach to find its death. Something that did not belong to the sand but to the ocean. It was not from this time or this place. Something that filled them with awe and at the same time paralyzed them with fear.

The submarine was just like in the photograph – half of it buried in the sand with its nose protruding lopsidedly in the air. It looked just like a plane, ready at any moment to get free from its sand restraints and take off. The bluish-grey metal was shining under the sun and was in sharp contrast with the hot Sahara sand. Almost half of the tower in the upper part of the submarine was submerged under sand.

Alan quickened his step and the rest followed him. Hans was the last one in the column. He obviously had difficulty walking in the sand and his immaculate black shoes were filling with sand grains, making him sweat even more. He did not look his best at the moment but that did not stop him from taking out his ubiquitous pipe and lighting it when he reached the ship.

Alan was the first to reach the submarine, having advanced about ten yards before the group. He brushed its corps with his hand and seeming to enjoy it like it was a little kid, said:

“Cute baby, eh?”

“Well, we are good at manufacturing submarines”, Sergey grinned.

They all crowded around it, everybody touching it as if to make sure it was real.

“No, you are not dreaming, Seriozha, my friend, this is a real fucking submarine, no joking about it…”, Alan said, overjoyed with the perspective of his future story in the media about the event.