Adventures in Unsettling Times
So, how to start this log?
There’s no checklist for it: now, that’s a novelty! I’m forgetting how to be inventive.
OK, here goes ...
Well, I’ve done all those things you do in your twenties. All the action sports, all the enlightenment stuff, all the danger games. Damned expensive, every one of them. But I have far more cash than I need. Always will have. Lucky old me ...
So I’m one of the very few who can afford to go Hovering.
I didn’t believe a word of it when it was first announced. Nobody did. It took a long time (ha!) for the media to stop denying it and start taking it seriously. And then they quickly switched to rubbishing it as the New Sport Of Very Rich Kings.
They weren’t quite right, there. They meant very rich kings and brats like me ...
I went for it, of course, and here I am, four days in and a whole lot of training under my belt already. No real trips yet — it’s ‘classroom and sim only’ till Day Seven — but Chak says I’m doing really well.
Hmm ... I wonder if I’m supposed to say things like that here? Too bad — can’t be bothered to change it now. There, it’s saved ... and these logs are ‘non-modify’ and ‘non-erase’!
More later.
* * *
Chak wants me to ‘describe my reactions to the training so far’.
Well ... learning to use the controls, and following the checklists, and practising procedures — those are no real problem. It’s hard work, of course: lots of concentration, and so much to take in and rehearse every day — but I think I’ve coped with it all OK, and even handled a few questions ‘in an inspired way’ (he said!).
He’s very supportive. Brilliant teacher, actually.
No, the really tough stuff has been getting to grips with the numbers and the concepts. Same problem the Press and TVN used to have — and they weren’t even trying to understand it all.
‘Summarise hovering in your own words,’ Chak told me, ‘without lifting any chunks of stuff from the manuals.’ Hmm ...
OK: imagine you’re on one of those moving walkways at an airport. You’re standing still, but you’re being carried along at that gentle, reliable, never-changing pace.
And then you suddenly jump up in the air ... and come back down again. The walkway has moved on: you’re now in a different place on it. And if you were standing next to other people when you jumped ... well, they’ll be a bit ahead of you, now you’ve landed.
Do that a few times — or even grab a fixed overhead rail and hang loose for a while — and those people will get farther and farther away.
Of course, they’ve not changed their speed at all, but you’ve slowed down. For as long as you wish ...
But — and this is the tricky bit, for my little brain! — if you do that, you apparently have some ‘inertia’ or ‘momentum’ from your original forward motion at the instant you jump ... even if you contrive a bit of artificial braking! So you can never manage to stay exactly above the spot where you jumped.
Oh yes, nearly forgot — in this little game, you can only jump directly upwards, never back or forward! And that walkway only ever goes in one direction.
Well, you get the idea. And that’s all there is to it. Except that when you go hovering, it’s not a walkway that keeps moving on while you hang around. No: it’s Time itself.
Of course, the Governors tried to ban it. Succeeded too, in most regions. Only three small zones were willing (and rich enough) to take the plunge along with HoverPlay Corp. But the Treaties forced each of them, and HoverPlay, to commit to maintaining their Hoverlands ‘in absolute perpetuity’. So none of these amazing places can ever close! We’ll always be able to come back down again — at any time we like ...
That’ll do for now. First sim run tomorrow!
* * *
Oh, that was just amazing!
I’m gonna cheat straight away and just transcribe some of the recorded voice log:
“That’s good, Sam, very good. Now, check V is zero, and enable Slowtec ... Hello? Cross-check Duration: it should still read D1, confirm? ... Hey, shape up, Sam! You’re supposed to repeat and report each time, remember?”
“Sorry, Chak. No brain space left. This is so exciting ...”
“Cut out the gushing and concentrate on procedure! Report NOW!”
“Sorry ... OK, Slowtec enabled at V0, D set at 1, all biomotor indicators good ... Ready to go, Chak!”
“Roger. Engage Slowtec.”
“Engaged.”
“Confirmed. Now, what’s our Duration again?”
“It’s D1 ... a 5-minute trip.”
“Right. And our Slowtec Factor?”
“V is zero ... so Slowtec Factor is 1, Chak.”
“Good. So we’re only going forward about 75 years in the sim, and it’ll take just 5 minutes. Or four seconds per year. OK ... now you can relax and look at the viewer. What do you see?”
“Wow!”
Chak just caught me transcribing.
He says I have to pay for it by writing something more informative before I get back to the sim trip itself.
OK ...
The hovertower’s built close to the center of the urb.
Our cells are all well below ground. Permanent personal cells for every individual trainee — those are all 2-seaters, with full dual-controls. And there’s a separate, interlinked instructor’s cell adjacent to each one, for when we go solo ...
But the cameras are sited all the way up the tower, so they feed the system with views for miles and miles in every direction. And it also gets relayed views from lots of other remote cameras beyond the horizon.
In sim mode, the view we see isn’t really changing at all. But the sim system is programmed with lots of reasonably probable scenarios for local development over the next few thousand years. And those scenarios are regularly improved, of course, based on footage from every new real trip — and, apparently, to reflect what’s actually changed after each of those trips.
I’m still trying to get my head around that last bit ...
Right ... back to our very first sim!
We’d just got going, and the screen was displaying its standard fixed, panoramic view of the urb and the land all around ... but for five whole minutes of hovering we sat and watched as buildings rose very fast or evaporated in a flash, excavations were dug, and roads were made and re-made — all to a backdrop of shimmering illumination: the sim system’s way of representing 365 cycles of sun and moon light every four seconds!
Chak didn’t say much during the hover. Just occasionally he pointed out a few interesting sights that I might have missed (he’d seen it all before!). But as the D-timer dropped below 20 seconds, he went back into full instructor mode. By the time Duration hit zero we’d cross-checked everything, the system had gone into HoverHold, and he’d verified ‘Accepted’.
When I looked up again at the display, it was almost a shock to find the world around us happily stable once again; no big changes going on now, just a rapid criss-crossing of traffic and people on the streets below (above us, actually), and the much more sluggish passage of trucks and track-cabs across the distant fields.
What struck me most was how remarkably similar it was to today’s landscape. Sure, most of the buildings and other stuff looked different in style — but the overall structure was basically the same, and those trucks and track-cabs were still doing the same job, even if their shapes and colors were a bit strange. Yes, that’s what I found so amazing ... how reassuring it would apparently all still be, after 75 years. Wow!
We stayed in the hold for two or three minutes, then Chak whispered ‘Seen enough?’ and I nodded. ‘OK,’ he said, ‘that’ll do for your first sim. Prepare for the planned Fasttec.’
I ran quickly through the trip checklist and adjusted the biomotor settings.
I’ll transcribe again now ...
“Status report please, Sam.”
“Auto-Duration is now enabled, Chak. And V is re-set to 4 — that’s Tec Factor 16. Ready to go.”
He sighed audibly.
“And what about the Tec setting itself?”
“Slowtec is set ... Oh, shit!”
“Do you actually want to go back, or have you already decided to change our minds on this one, Sam?”
“Sorry, Chak. Wait ... OK, Fasttec is set.”
“Right. Now be prepared for what you’ll see on the screen for the next 20 seconds. On the way out, we were going so slowly in here, it was like watching a movie on fast-forward, wasn’t it? This time, we’ll be returning so rapidly that all you’ll see on the viewer will be a blur of countless freeze-frames ...”
And so we ‘came home’. Of course it was only a sim. And as Chak had warned me, the view was non-existent. In fact, he says most people soon fall asleep on real return runs, ‘cos their bodies are working so hard ...
Come to think of it, there were no very special views or moments in the entire trip — just the big buzz of the whole experience. But that was more than enough, and I’m sure it’ll get better. I think I’m hooked!
* * *
Just back from our first non-sim — my first real trip!
When you hover for real, you both need to wear a special biomotor headcap, and LOTS of body monitors. A bit impersonal, actually. And at the same time it’s rather embarrassing ... you have to apply each other’s sticky pads, all over the place! But Chak made an easy joke of it, and I’ve decided not to let it bug me ...
Gonna cheat again now. Chak raised his eyebrows when he read the second transcription in my first sim log, but he didn’t say anything. So I reckon all the trainees do it. Maybe he was impressed I caught on so fast ...
“OK — this is for real, Sam. Last chance to change your mind.”
“I’m ready, Chak.”
“And you did call in sick at Voluntary?”
“Yeah. Made it sound quite unpleasant — at least two or three days away!”
“OK. Here we go. Set D6 and report.”
“D6 set ... 30 minutes.”
“Check. Now set V3.”
“V3 set. Speed adjustment factor is now 8.”
“Check. Enable Slowtec and confirm trip plan.”
“Slowtec enabled. Duration will be 30 minutes. Distance will be basic Tecspeed value times Factor 8, times Duration 6 ... that’s 3600 years.”
“Check. All systems go, Sam. Engage Slowtec — and enjoy!”
For the next half-hour we watched the centuries rushing by — each one in less than a minute.
This time I couldn’t catch any building work actually going on. Even 2-year-long construction projects just seemed to pop up, fully completed, within one second!
So it was almost less interesting than the sim run. At least with that I could get a sense of the changes going on. This time it was more like a continuous burst from a foam cannon, spattering the landscape and relentlessly reshaping it. Very cold feel to it all. But the strange sunmoonshine was there, just as the sim had portrayed it — so the coldness was all in my head, I guess.
After about five minutes I actually got quite bored. Chak must have spotted that ... or maybe the body sensors gave him a private hint. Anyhow, he suddenly started — wait for it — he started to recite poetry, out loud! I couldn’t help bursting into laughter. And then he laughed too. Got the strong impression he’s done that many times before. Probably trick no. 14 in the instructor’s manual ...
But when I looked back at the viewer I stopped laughing. The urb had disappeared. All I could see, in every direction, was just the green-brown hue of woods and fields. Neatly managed, mind — so there was still some civilisation around. But not a building in sight ... except, right in the center of the image, OUR OWN HOVERTOWER — or something looking quite similar.
‘So, the Treaties have held up for at least a few hundred years, Chak.’ I was trying to make a joke out of my surprise, my mild concern.
‘Sure have,’ was all he could manage. Now there’s calm confidence. Damn these know-all instructors! (Only joking, Chak.)
We both fell silent after that. And I think I then drifted off into real hibernation for a long while, ‘cos when I came to, Chak was already starting the prep for transit to the hold. It all went smoothly. But while I’d been ‘away’, and then concentrating on the controls and readouts, the scene on the viewer had changed dramatically.
Vast, glimmering expanses of flat, golden stone, like a mosaic of huge paving slabs. Not a feature to be seen on any of them. Wrong — a small (huge?) round opening in one corner of each of the closest ones. Probably all like that. Definitely not a single building on the entire surface. But once again, right in the middle of the view ...
It HAD to be the Hovertower. But it wasn’t. No tower. Just one more differently-shaped ‘hole’ in the surface of the central slab. Where were the cameras, and all the hardware kept in the tower?
Chak must have been reading my thoughts. ‘They switched to a full sat-radio system about 2500 years back from here,’ he mumbled, far too matter-of-factly for the liking of my romanticism. ‘Makes sense, after all that trouble with the Storms. Good job our cells were built well below ground level.’
‘What storms?’
‘Tell you later. Let’s get going now. I’m hungry — missed breakfast today.’
Talk about deflating.
‘You’re the boss.’
‘Well, I am today. Your turn soon.’ He was smiling again. ‘Now, get yourself into the mood for a long rest ...’
After the first few seconds of white blur, I didn’t bother to look at the viewer again. And I don’t remember when I went off to sleep. Just like at the dentist’s. But Chak must have anticipated the arrival time (or maybe he’d stuck an extra probe on himself when I wasn’t looking), ‘cos I felt him give me a sort of verbal nudge, and there we were, thirty seconds to go on the D-timer, and he was starting the final approach briefing ...
White blur suddenly disappeared, and sharp clean sunlight replaced it — along with our old, familiar urb.
‘Home again,’ Chak pronounced, in a formulaic sort of way. ‘But take a peek at the clock ...’
And it really was true. We’d tripped forward 3600 years, and come all the way back again, with no ill-effects, it seemed — and yet we’d been powerless to control the inertia of our lives at the moment of departure. So while Chak and I had spent one pleasant hour out hovering across nearly four millennia, the world around us had aged by almost three days. Days which we can never, ever get to see.
And if that were a problem for me, what about Chak (and the other instructors)? It happens to him every time he does a hover. And he loses even more time when he does an extended hold or a full Landaway. So he’s always missing out on big lumps of his life. No, wait ... not his life — everybody else’s. Oh boy ...
And now I’m on the same game. I need to work on the full story of my sudden, debilitating head-cold, ready for Voluntary in the morning.
* * *
Bit of a low point, right now.
Chak says not to worry — everyone goes through it, often more than once.
Great.
And he won’t talk about the Storms.
We’ve done three more real trips, mainly to consolidate all the procedures in my head, and get me running the checklists quickly and correctly. That side of it’s still going OK — and Chak agrees.
I’m just feeling a bit unsure about it all. It’s really not as exciting as I’d expected. Very procedural. Very controlled. Of course it has to be. All the same ...
Or maybe I’m just getting nervous again. One more joint trip this afternoon, and Chak says I’ll then be ready for my first solo.
Don’t know what I think, really ...
I’ve come clean with Voluntary, though. Told them I’ve taken another placement across-urb, part-time (3-day stints), and they can have me when I’m available, or not at all. They’re thinking about it. At least I don’t have to come up with any more sickness excuses.
And all my friends have started wondering why I’ve been going AWOL on them for days on end. And I keep forgetting I have (well, I haven’t, have I?) Oh, shit.
Not that calling them ‘all my friends’ is really justified. Only two left, these days, and every time we do make contact they both seem ever-busier with their own lives.
But then again that doesn’t really feel like a problem.
No, I guess I’m happy enough to be hovering. Heck, there are millions out there who’d give their right arm ...
* * *
Just back from our latest trip. Feeling better again.
Chak kept it straightforward, so I could focus on all the routines, ready for my first solo. We only did fifteen years this time. He’d never told me you could set D to a value below 1 (and it’s not in the manuals), but he slapped it down to 0.2 just before we left, and we were only up there for sixty seconds! With a trip that short, you’ve barely adjusted after the transit to hovering before it’s time to enter the hold. I told you he was going to test my concentration on procedure!
But it all went OK, we came back without incident, and he gave me the green light. First solo tomorrow! I’m so excited!!
Gotta do some homework first, though.
* * *
Chak just tested me on the Tec Numbers (not a perfect score!), then made me stay here in the study room till I’d memorised them all. Now he’s gone off with all the manuals and told me to list out the TNs here in the log, with a worked example, for him to check later. Once I’ve done it, and it’s saved, it can’t be changed, of course — so he’s ‘encouraged’ me to get it right first time, to save a lot of future embarrassment. He’s a hard master ...
D is the Duration of the trip segment. D-values range from 0 to 60, rising in 5 minute increments. So D1 is 5 minutes, and D60 is 5 hours (that would be far too long a trip for me, I reckon).
T is the built-in basic Tecspeed constant: 2 to the power 23, minus a bit. Nearly 8 million!
V is the additional brake/accelerate square variable. It’s used (with F) to modify the basic Tecspeed number. V-values range from 0 to 10.
F is the actual, derived speed adjustment factor. F equals 2 to the power V. So if, say, V is 2, then F is 4, and the basic Tecspeed number gets quadrupled. And so on ...
Now, I’ll use our first sim trip for the simple example. I won’t forget that one easily!
D was set to 1. That means our trip forward (in Slowtec mode) took just 5 minutes (as far as we were concerned!)
V was zero, so the extra braking factor (F) was 2 to the power zero ... or simply 1. That means there was no extra slowdown on that trip — no change to that BIG basic Tecspeed constant.
So ... the biomotor slowed our metabolisms down — to about 8 million times slower than normal!! — and our bodies went into a sort of conscious hibernation for 5 minutes, while the rest of the world moved on by around 40 million minutes, or 75 years.
The return trip was a bit different. We changed to Auto-Duration and Fasttec, so the system knew we were coming back and would need to stop us when we got home (or nearly home!).
This time, our metabolisms were seriously speeded up, so it was the opposite of a hibernation: more like a squirrel dashing madly around, catching up on its preparation for the winter ...
And on top of that, our Tecspeed on the way back was much greater! V was 4, so F was 2 to the power 4, and we rushed back sixteen times faster than our outbound speed. That’s why it seemed to take us only twenty seconds!
Phew — I’m sure the newspapers couldn’t cope with all this mathematics. It’s probably what put them off the whole idea. Still, that left it nicely alone for those of us who are willing to make the effort.
I’m rather nervous about tomorrow, now ...
* * *
I’ve done it! My first solo! Unbelievable!!
Cheating again with a transcript here:
“OK, Sam, it’s all yours. Your cell’s the master, and there’s no-one in the right-hand seat today. But I’m next door in my own cell, I promise ... on parallel slaved course, and listening in. But remember — on this trip, if you make any really big mistakes with the controls, I won’t be able to grab them and rescue you! Of course, I’ll still be able to come straight home ...”
“Hmm. Right-ho, Chak ... I guess.”
“Now, don’t call for help if you’re just a little bit lost: try and keep calm and sort it out for yourself; don’t do anything silly; think it through. But if you’re feeling really unhappy, and that’s starting to cloud your judgement, then call me at once, and I’ll talk you home. That won’t be a failure, it’ll be a smart move. OK?”
“OK, Chak — and thanks for all your help!”
“No problem. Go for it!”
I went for it. D1 again, of course, for just 5 minutes away — and V0, so I only did a quick 75 years. In fact, it was a carbon copy of our first sim run.
But there were two big differences.
One: I was on my own. There’s nothing like going solo to test your memory of those checklists! I think I managed OK.
And two: IT DIDN’T LOOK THE SAME. Maybe the sim programmers have been a bit lazy after all, in re-profiling the system’s short-term images based on real feedback. I saw buildings rise and fall, and all the other stuff, of course — but when I hit 75 years and went into the hold ... well, the mood was different. Everything looked sort of crisper. Crustier round the edges. A bit fragile.
Can’t say if it felt friendlier or not. Only know I’m glad it wasn’t a planned Landaway. Not that I’ll be doing one of those for a while — and then only after plenty of practice with Chak on board again!
Coming home was a doddle. Another great day (three days, actually)! Yeah ... HOVVIES DO IT WITH A CHECKLIST!
* * *
Thought it would be quite some time before we did a Landaway. Wrong. Chak’s always full of surprises. In fact, today turned out to be a fully-fledged MHLA.
Standard stuff to begin with. D3/V2 — a quick 15-minute trip out to 900 years. The usual architectural poppings-up/down on the way out — seen most of them already, of course, just at different rates of change ...
We went into the hold for a little while, but there wasn’t much to write home about; there were fewer buildings around this time, but those I could see seemed much taller than before. And there was hardly any movement on the ground — a handful of vehicles, no people at all. I would have been quite interested in watching for a while, to see if anyone did appear — but Chak was ready to move again ...
‘Right: if you’re still happy, Sam, we’ll get on with the next part of the multi-hold. OK?’
‘OK, Chak.’
‘I’ll drive this time,’ he announced without further debate, and snapped Duration back to D1. ‘Just 5 minutes at the same speed. Only another 300 years out, but it’ll give you the idea of a forward trip from a holding start. Feels a bit different. Ready?’
And off we went again. No real difference, actually. Bit like popping down to the shops for a pint of milk.
The total distance meter clicked reassuringly over to 1200 years, and we went into our second hold of the day.
Still those very tall buildings (must have been a rather conservative era for the construction arts), but now there were people teeming everywhere on the streets outside. Strange things on their heads, though — looked like black cycling helmets. I asked Chak about them. He just shook his own head vaguely, as if he had no idea ...
He left me watching the helmeted ants for a little longer, then it was firmly back to procedure.
‘Right, now it’s the LA bit. We’re going almost all the way home, and fast — but we’ll set up Repose at just 30 years out, for a quick chat with the natives.’
He’d neglected to mention a Landaway in the pre-trip briefing. Wonder why? I was getting the strong impression he was keen to drop in on someone by surprise ...
“Shape up, Sam! I said ‘Set D3.9/V2’! Your brain on vacation or something?”
“Sorry, Chak. OK ... D3.9/V2 set.”
“Enable Fasttec.”
“Enabled.”
“You have control.”
“I have control. Fasttec engaged!”
I don’t know if my long sleep was especially intense, or whether Chak failed to ‘nudge’ me as he usually does, but the next thing I knew, I was wide awake, feeling very disorientated, and staring at a strange fluorescent flickering on the viewer ...
‘Where in hell’s name are we now, Chak?’
Halfway through that blurted reflection of my lowish level of situational awareness, the viewer switched abruptly to a crisp shot of about a dozen control room staff, all smartly dressed and staring with obvious expectation at a screen of their own. By the end of my little outburst, however, they had managed to move beyond a promise of imminent and enthusiastic applause into a fine group display of silent, co-ordinated jaw-dropping.
Ever felt like a goldfish in a bowl? Ever said something rather ill-considered, out loud, just as everyone else has stopped talking? Ever wished for a nascent chasm in the Earth to go premature, open up, and welcome you right in with a nice glass of sherry?
This was not like any of those. It was like all of them, at once, with multi-colored fairy-lights twinkling additionally in your hair, just in case anyone has not yet spotted you ...
But I don’t think Chak picked up on my minor discomfort. He seemed totally focussed on the dulcet tones of a voice that had broken into the quiet privacy of our little cell.
“Hey, Chak, long time! Too long! How’s it goin’?”
I could tell Chak’s smile was remarkably broad.
“Just fine, Jay. Guessed you’d be here. Always on a Yellow Day, eh?”
“You bet, Chak. Only way I can be sure to meet all my best friends!”
“Right! Oh, by the way ... this is Sam.”
“Hi Sam.”
I guess I said ‘Hi’. I may or may not have had my eyes closed at that point. I certainly did not want to be there. And I did not like the sound of Jay’s voice at all ...
“Gonna hang around for a few hours’ Chak-chat, Chak?”
“Nah, sorry ... we’re on our first MHLA, and Sam’ll get bored very fast - won’t you? I’ll catch up with you’all next time I’m solo. Don’t wait up, now!”
“OK, big man, it’s your call. We’re only here to serve! Safe trip home — and keep that promise ...”
“Wilco, Jay. Switching to internal. Seeya!”
And we came home.
* * *
I feel so stupid.
It was my second solo today, and Chak had planned out another full MHLA. That’s why we did that one together yesterday, it seems. And perhaps I was a bit unkind in my reactions to what happened on the way back.
Anyhow — feeling stupid, as I said.
Everything went fine up to the first hold. Only 150 years out, and basic speed setting. Nothing special in the view when I got there, but after all, this is still training, not sightseeing.
Set her up at the faster V3 for another 10 minutes, and moved away smoothly. Quite proud of the way I handled her at that point, actually ...
There was the usual heavy staccato of images at the higher outbound speed. And eventually the D-timer warned me I was approaching my second planned hold — the 1350 years point. This time I was due to Landaway.
But as I sat waiting for the signal to accept the hold, the D-timer abruptly stopped at the 6-seconds mark. The display went back into sharp focus, revealing an utterly barren landscape with just a few low, curved roofs dotted around quite randomly, and no tower visible at the center.
‘What?’ I asked no-one in particular, and then my chest tightened and I went straight into a solid state of panic. ‘Oh, no, this isn’t fair ...’
I hit the intercom button. ‘Chak, something’s wrong ... Chak? ... Chak! ... CHAK!!’
Nothing. He was no more than ten feet away from me in the next door cell, but I was truly on my own now.
I guess the training and his wise words before my first solo actually saved me.
I forced myself to breathe deeply for a full twenty seconds, then take stock and see if I could sort things out. I tried the intercom again, and then its backup. Still nothing. Then I remembered the survival priority list: Hover, Position, Communicate. I was doing it all the wrong way round!
Hover. That means being in charge. In control.
OK ...
Review motor settings: D2 — check, V3 — check, F8 — check.
Review annunciators: Ah ... an orange light on “Display Feed”! So that meant there was something wrong with the viewer ...
But why was I stuck at 6 seconds from the hold point? Ah ... two more orange lights: on ‘Slowtec Drive’ and ‘Pend’. What did they mean? Wait, I’d learnt all this in the classroom, and I’d actually practised some of it on those early sim trips. Yes ... the two drive lamps meant that Slowtec had been suspended, because of a fault detected elsewhere ... and that must be in the Display system! Right — back to that orange lamp. Underneath it, a friendly little blue button marked ‘Reset’. And then I remembered the standard problem-solving drill: ‘Always initially attempt a manual reset of any malfunctioning component. In many cases, this action will resolve transitory, non-critical error situations, and enable full recovery ...’.
I pressed Reset.
The screen went staccato again for a few seconds, then cleared to a fine view of another smiling welcoming committee. But I forced myself to ignore them and study the indicators. D-timer was now at zero, all orange lights were off — and suddenly there was Chak in my ears, reassuringly intoning ‘Nice work, Sam. So what now ...?’
‘I’m really shaking, Chak. I don’t feel like meeting these people. Can we get straight back, please?’
‘Your call. I can’t make that decision, or play with the controls. It’s up to you. I’m just here to give advice, today. Pity about the intercom failure ...’
Yeah, what about that? Two simultaneous system faults? Surely not? And something in his voice was telling me that intercom had been working perfectly.
‘OK, Chak, you’re dead right — it’s my call. I’m accepting the hold, now ... OK, it’s done ... but I’m not putting her into Repose. I want to sit quietly for a while and then go home as fast as I can.’
‘Sure. Whatever you say. But you’re not even planning to just say hello to all those nice people?’
‘No, Chak. I’m sure they’ll understand ...’
I dropped him out of the equation, took my few minutes’ time-out, set up the system for the return segment, and just let it rip.
I didn’t talk to Chak as he removed my stickers. And he didn’t attempt a debriefing. I’ll get the benefit of that tomorrow, no doubt.
Why the hell didn’t I do the Landaway? Why was I so weedy? Everything was working properly again. And Chak was back on parallel. Stupid!
That’s not going to happen to me again. My reputation’s not gonna sink any lower than this.
Dammit, why am I so proud?
Hope the engineers track down that display fault. And sort out the intercom ...
* * *
Not feeling at all happy today. Can’t put it any more strongly than that, here ...
You see, Chak decided yesterday it was nearly time for my Final Test. If I pass, it’ll free him up from always needing to be ‘nearby’ on my solos, and he can take on a new trainee. Must be a bit limiting for instructors, to have to restrict themselves to one at a time! But they must always ‘keep pace’ with their individual students — quite literally — otherwise they’d be separated from them forever because of those unavoidable 3-day losses!
Passing the test will also allow me to instruct others, if I ever want to! Seems a bit premature, that; but it’s still early days for hovering, so I guess they’re still building the quality processes as they go along ...
Anyway, this afternoon he said the engineers had checked everything out (‘no fault found’), so we could go straight into the final test preparation trip. Joint, not solo, and another standard MHLA: same format as the test itself will be. He chose two hold points and another for the Landaway, and gave me a good briefing, then we set it all up, and off we went ...
Nothing wrong with the intercom inside my cell. We entered the first hold with no orange lights, and then buzzed off to the second, and it all went smoothly there as well. ‘Enjoying it?’ asked Chak, sounding quite interested in my reply. ‘Yeah, it’s OK,’ I said. I’d already decided to be solidly noncommittal with him until further notice. He didn’t pursue his sociable initiative.
“Right, Sam — let’s turn round and hit the Landaway.”
“Chak, we’re definitely not going back to the 30-year point, are we? You know — Jay and the others. You’re not going to switch the V setting on me at the last moment ...?”
“Nah. This one’s all yours, sunshine. 600 years out, just like we planned it. Never done that one myself, actually ...”
“What? You sure that’s a good idea?”
“Yeah. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. You have control.”
“I have control.”
I woke from the catch-up to see Chak uncharacteristically overloaded. Orange lights were on all over the instrument panels, and a couple of red ones too! The D-timer was stuck on 6 seconds, just like before, but it was obvious that he hadn’t been able to clear it with Reset this time. ‘What’s up?’ I managed. ‘Display stuck again,’ he muttered, ‘and six other warnings. Can’t clear 'em. Leave it to me ...’
That put me firmly in the back seat. I probably didn’t have much to offer, but it would have been nice if ...
Chak suddenly seemed to ‘change mode’. He leant forward and did a strange double-handed maneuver with the big red switches.
‘Got it! Right: Display’s OK ... No reds, no oranges ... D-timer is 3 seconds and falling ... Entering hold ... Accepted!’
He drooped heavily back into his seat. For the first time since I’d met him, Chak was actually sweating.
When he seemed a bit calmer, I spoke as gently as I could ...
“Are you OK?”
“Yeah — thanks.”
“Hover looks good.”
“Yeah.”
“No control room showing in the display, Chak ... just the landscape and the tower.”
“Yeah — I cancelled auto-switch as we entered the hold. Didn’t want them to see me like this.”
“That’s fine. Just relax. And well done!”
“Thanks, Sam. Hey ... you’ll make a good instructor one day. Nice attitude ...”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. So I did neither. I just waited.
Surprising quickly, Chak seemed to make a huge effort to literally put on a brave face. Then he hit a single switch on the display. Lots of rather more worried faces flashed into view.
‘Hi guys,’ he called out breezily. ‘Sorry for the hold-up (ha!). A few technical glitches in here. Looks OK now for the trip home, but don’t wanna risk the Repose, if you don’t mind.’
‘That’s perfectly understandable, sir,’ came back a military-sounding voice. ‘A very sound decision, I’m sure. May I just take your full names and licence numbers for the record?’ ... ‘Thank you, sir. Safe journey. You are cleared for departure.’
Chak switched back to internal, and said ‘You happy to drive?’
‘That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?’
‘Yep.’
‘Right. I have control.’
She came home like a dream.
And now the reactions have set in. I’m really unhappy about all those malfunctions. And I just don’t understand Chak at all. He’s so inconsistent ...
I don’t care that he’ll be reading all this. It’s the truth. There ... Saved!
* * *
It’s taken me a while to bring myself to write this.
We set out on my Final Test early this morning. The sun was shining brilliantly outside ...
Slightly different shape to the plan this time. One short hover to hold, then another quick trip and a brief Landaway. Then a long run to a third hold, a quick look around (Chak chose another point he’s not seen before), then a single big return segment.
Great plan.
The first run went fine. They always do, right? And Chak made a special point of doubling-up on all the en-route checks, to satisfy me (himself?) that the engineers had ironed out all those latest bugs.
A pretty little hold, at 210 years, then back in the saddle. More extra en-route checks. AOK.
Stopped again at 1920 years and went into Repose. Nice people there — funny clothes, but all very friendly. Chak did most of the chit-chatting of course, but I said my bit this time. All small-talk though. Wonder if anyone ever makes time for a proper conversation ...?
Hit the road again, for a long run at D3/V7 — that’s just fifteen minutes en-route, but at Tecspeed Factor 128, taking us out another 28800 years, to a planned final hold at 30720.
And do you realise that’s still just PEANUTS? If you set the maximum values, D60 and V10, you go forward nearly FIVE MILLION years!
(Needed to ‘Save’ and pause for a drink. We always carry water with us ...)
So: as I said, off we went at D3/V7. I was definitely planning a short hibernap: there’s little to watch on the viewer at such a high rate of change, and Chak seemed to have had his fill of social intercourse at point 1920.
I never got to have my nap.
“What the ...?”
“Problem, Chak?”
“Maybe. Slowtec motor’s got a flashing red. But no related info lights. Dunno what’s wrong — yet.”
“Can I do anything?”
“Gin and Tonic’d be good.”
“Very funny.”
“Let me think, Sam.”
“Biomotor’s gone solid red, Chak.”
“I know.”
“But D-timer’s still counting down at the same rate ...”
“I know.”
“D-timer’s close to zero, Chak.”
“Yeah. Hope the system stops us at the hold.”
“D-timer’s zero now.”
“Yeah ... but total Distance is still increasing at the same rate. We overshot, Sam.”
“Er ... right. So the biomotor’s still running at V7? What do we do now, Chak?”
“You panic. I think.”
“What does the manual say about this, Chak?”
“It doesn’t.”
“Right, I’ve had enough! I’m supposed to be qualifying as an instructor today, right? So here I am. What’s your plan, Chak?”
“Good question. Glad you asked. OK — I’m thinking of manually engaging Fasttec ...”
“What? Just like that? That’s like shifting a car into reverse at 60mph without even using the clutch!”
“Spot on.”
“Isn’t there something else you can do?”
“Can’t think of anything. Can you, smartass?”
“Well, that didn’t work.”
“No, Chak — biomotor’s still in Slowtec. Fasttec now flashing ‘Unavailable’. Distance meter still increasing at same rate. Think you broke anything ...?”
“Well, half a dozen gearwheel cogs just smashed through the floor beneath the pedals. Apart from that ... No, Sam, no sign of actual damage.”
“So what now?”
“Gotta stop her, somehow ...”
“Gonna have to pull the plug on the Tec drive, Sam.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means — if we’re lucky — the system will lose power, give up the ghost, and shut off all our support functions. We’ll be dead in less than three seconds.”
“Right. And if we’re unlucky ...”
“She loses power, goes onto battery-backup, and cancels all Slowtec functions. We’ll go into hover wherever we’ve stopped, and we’ll have as long as the batteries give us.”
“Ah. Got it.”
* * *
There. The trip log’s up to date. I’m writing this in real time now.
The backup batteries must have cut in when Chak removed the motor fuse. Trust the HoverPlay designers to get something right ...
We stopped at 41280. We’re still hovering here.
Chak switched the display to control room feed, of course, as soon as he’d accepted the hold. And the intercom. The room’s there all right ... looks very different, very tidy, but it’s there. Small problem, though — no sight or sound of anybody working in it.
But there are people walking around outside the Hoverland. Men and women and children. The landscape’s barren all around; no buildings, no real streets, no cars, no trucks or tracks, no color to the fields. But there are people ...
* * *
We’ve been hovering for more than four hours of our own time, now. The water’s already running down fast. And the battery levels. And my chewing gum.
We’ve agreed to be a lot tighter with the rations, while we talk.
We’ve done a lot of talking.
Chak says he was counting on the control room engineers trying to fix the motor, or at least giving us an external power supply for restart — our batteries can’t handle that now. But there’s no-one in there ...
He’s dozing now. My turn next.
* * *
Chak just paid me a little visit. In my own seat. With his sticky pads still on.
I suppose, technically speaking, it was rape. He didn’t ask. I didn’t say ‘Yes’.
But I didn’t say ‘No’ either.
* * *
Rather a defining moment, this ...
I just drank the last drop of water.
We’ve done a lot more talking.
We could stay in hover-hold. That gives us both a few more hours, or worse, and then death by starvation, or suicide, or mutual assistance. Bit short of the tools for most of those, though ...
Or we could go into Repose, and get the hell out of this cell. Chak says that last bit’s never been tried before.
There are people out there — I’ve seen them. They don’t look very happy, and the view leaves a lot to be desired. But that’s life ...
They will come and help us as soon as we emerge from the Hoverland, won’t they? And then there’ll be so much to discover about each other ...
Maybe it’s finally time to settle?
And Chak’s a hard man, but I really think I could have his babies ...
Copyright © 2006 by Bewildering Stories
on behalf of the author
