—I am familiar with the metric system. Thank you.
—The chamber rotates inside the torso based on its incline. Basically, it’s a big gyroscope. The concept is beautifully simple. The sphere is heavier at the bottom, and it floats in some sort of liquid. Gravity does the rest. If you tilt the body, the inner sphere stays level. The sphere appears to be translucent. You can see the dark metal through the milky substance it floats in. The interior is dimly lit though there is no apparent light source. There are no windows of any kind.
The floor of the chamber is flat, split into two crescent-shaped decks. The rear one is raised about three feet, with two steps on each side to get down to the front section. It seems designed to accommodate two people, two pilots. I call them animators. I like the puppet analogy better since it’s not really a ship.
The upper deck is very minimalist. There is a beam that descends from the ceiling about halfway through. Attached to the end of it is a black helmet—like a scooter helmet, with a dark, opaque visor—and what looks like an armored straitjacket. It has metal braces that close over the forearms and upper arms and it’s articulated at the shoulders and elbows. It also has a wide brace that wraps around the chest. There are glove-like devices at the end of each arm. Standing right in front of it is a small metallic round column, about three feet high.
—Have you determined its purpose?
—We have no idea what it does, but we really haven’t tried anything yet.
The bottom deck is much more elaborate. There’s a crescent-shaped console, about two meters wide, with maybe two dozen symbols carved onto it. Some of them are the same curvy ones we found on the panels in the hand chamber, others we haven’t seen before. In front of the console, where you’d expect a chair, there is a round circle. I wouldn’t call it a pool because it’s only half an inch deep, but it’s filled with some milky liquid. It’s very smooth, very silky, like liquid Teflon. Rising from the floor, right in the middle of it, is a shaft, about three feet high. There is another black helmet attached to that shaft, and a matching set of leg braces with stirrups hanging about an inch from the liquid floor.
It would appear that one person operates the arms and trunk, while another controls the legs, plus whatever else one can do from the console. That’s where it gets interesting.
—Before you go on, have you decided who will control the upper body and who will work the legs?
—I haven’t decided yet. The leg station is the one that controls locomotion and every other function on the console so there’s an argument for Kara sitting there, standing there, whatever. On the other hand, I believe it may be physically harder to move the legs and Ryan is a very strong man. We’ll probably try both and see what feels more natural.
—So what is it?
—What is what?
—You said: “This is where it gets interesting.” Irony is not one of my favorite modes of communication, but I can still recognize it. I assume you were about to serve me with some bad news.
—The leg braces are not suited for human anatomy. They were clearly designed for someone with leg articulations like that of the robot itself. I always assumed that the people who built this at least looked like us. If they weren’t human, that is.
—Will that be a problem for the pilot?
—Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. The knees are backward! So yes, it’s a problem, unless we can get a really smart ostrich to control the legs. We’ll have to find a way to adapt the controls to fit our anatomy.
—What about the console? Are you making any progress deciphering the symbols?
—Not really. Vincent took a quick look at the console but now he’s back to working on the panels. He feels there’s a better chance of interpreting the symbols in context, seeing how they combine together, than by looking at them individually.
—He feels…Are you having second thoughts about choosing him?
—What makes you think I…?
—You are distancing yourself from his opinion. That is unlike you. You tend to give credit to others when you succeed and you take responsibility for other people’s failures. It suggests to me that you are having second thoughts.
—Sometimes. He’s absolutely brilliant, don’t get me wrong. He understands things that are well beyond his area of expertise. We had an interesting conversation about extrasolar planets the other night. It turns out he reads about astrophysics in his spare time, just for the fun of it. If anyone can figure out the symbols…
I just hope his ego doesn’t get in the way. He respects me, and it’s easy for me to like him. He can be a little abrasive if you don’t live up to his standards. I have a feeling he’s even more demanding of himself. I’m worried the longer this drags on…He’s managed to get on Kara’s good side, though, and that’s not easy. It certainly makes all our lives a whole lot easier.
—I read his file. I believe he is more resilient than you give him credit for.
—You rea…He has a file?
—Your hairdresser has a file and you see him once a month. Vincent Couture is a foreign national on US soil, with direct access to top-secret-level information on a daily basis. He has several files, very large ones.
—You have a file on my hairdresser?
—Yes. He really needs to file his taxes. As for Mr. Couture, if you wish to replace him…
—You misunderstand. I’m sure if it can be done, Vincent can figure it out. I’m just not sure anyone can decipher these things. It might not be possible at all. That’s what I’m really worried about. I’m afraid of what it will do to him. I don’t think he’s ever been faced with a problem he couldn’t solve. He might just self-destruct if he feels like he’s failing.
—I do not wish to appear insensitive, but without a basic understanding of the symbols, we cannot make this machine work. How Mr. Couture reacts to failure seems rather inconsequential when weighed against the biggest scientific discovery in history. If you suspect he will not succeed, you must replace him immediately. If your only concern is that his ego might be irreparably bruised, I promise we will use the considerable resources at our disposal to get Mr. Couture the best help money can buy. Thirty hours of therapy should not break our budget.
—He just needs more time.
—He has a week.
FILE NO. 039
EXPERIMENT LOG—CW3 KARA RESNIK, UNITED STATES ARMY
Location: Underground Complex, Denver, CO
This is Kara Resnik recording. Today is September 20. It is…10:25 A.M. Dr. Rose Franklin is monitoring my vitals from the lab during the experiment. Hi, Dr. Franklin! We’re about to test the controls inside the device. We’ve attached the complete left arm to the torso, and now we’re gonna see if I can make it move. That’s if I ever get up there. I’m making my way up the stairs now, with a barstool.
We should really set up the elevator for this. Even without the legs, this is pretty high. It’s hard to move with all those sensors glued to my head and chest. I’m afraid I’ll rip out the wires. It’s bad enough I have to bring up furniture. When you speak to our mutual friend, ask him if they found anything resembling an alien stepladder in the Arctic. If anyone else ever listens to this, you should know that the hatch that leads inside the torso opens about four and a half feet from the floor. It’s not that big of a jump, but you’d need to be about eight feet tall to close it from the inside, or to open it again. The moral of this story is: Don’t go in there alone, or bring a barstool. Also, don’t forget to pee.
I’m about thirty steps from the top. Why am I the one going up the stairs anyway? I know, I’m the arm pilot, the singular arm pilot. But since this thing doesn’t have legs for now, maybe we could, you know, share a little. Ryan’s twice my size, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind carrying that stool up fifteen flights of stairs.