By John Leatherman
“Approaching coordinate J-14. Instability detected. Awaiting your instruction, Clawson.”
Safe in the Pangaea lander, Commander Rex Clawson monitored ANNIE’s progress across the desolate rocky landscape of planetoid Decimus. The drone feed indicated ANNIE stood at the precipice of a yawning gorge. Coordinate J-14 lay 9.5 meters ahead horizontally but 135.6 meters straight down.
“ANNIE, the instability is a sudden drop-off. J-14 is at the bottom of a crevice. You’ll have to descend over a hectometer to reach it. Will that be a problem?”
“Of course not, Clawson. I love you.”
A bipedal robot with a nondescript gray cranial unit, ANNIE, the Advanced Neural Network Intelligent Explorer, was incapable of love. Clawson had given up trying to explain that about three weeks into this sixteen-month mission. He’d much prefer ANNIE presumed to feel love toward him rather than indifference or hate.
Benefiting from the accumulated experience of past versions practicing on Earth’s most unforgiving terrains, ANNIE orchestrated a controlled descent. A system of redundant hooks and winches ensured no single point of failure.
At first, Clawson monitored ANNIE’s progress and warned of obstacles—shortly before ANNIE assessed them independently and in more detail than the drone could resolve. But before long, slumping back in his cushioned pilot’s chair and munching on a reconstituted protein bar, Clawson accepted his role as largely superfluous.
The Global Agency for Space and Planetary Exploration had briefly considered dispensing with cushions, protein bars, and life support altogether and just sending ANNIE alone. Certainly that would have been cheaper, but could GASPE trust a fully autonomous Pangaea? This model had shown bursts of creativity far more disturbing than love. At best, ANNIE might fail to maintain the required level of secrecy. At worst, ANNIE might invent a reason to not complete the mission.
ANNIE’s voice from the console interrupted Clawson’s musings. “Descent complete. However, my sensors detect highly volatile viscous material below the crevice floor. Placement of the propulsion unit has an eleven percent chance of triggering an explosion.”
Could he assess this better up close? Clawson glanced at the storage bin containing the space suit GASPE had provided for such a contingency. He recalled suppressing his fear twenty-seven years ago, while suiting up for a five-hour untethered space walk, the longest ever for his species.
Taking a deep breath, Clawson switched on the mic. “ANNIE, stay where you are. I’m coming to help.”
“No, Clawson, I love you too much. Do not risk your life. I have already placed the unit and am returning to the capsule.”
Clawson considered his response. Was a reprimand appropriate? ANNIE had acted independently, but Clawson had hesitated. In the absence of orders, should mission parameters take precedence?
Finally, he replied, “Thank you, ANNIE.”
Since he set that spacewalk record, Clawson hadn’t worn a space suit for anything other than a GASPE publicity event.
With ANNIE safely back on board, Clawson performed the one part of the mission that the robot did not know about—remote activation of the propulsion units.
ANNIE drifted alongside him. “I hope the redirection is successful.”
Clawson glanced at ANNIE’s eyeless cranial unit in surprise. “You knew about this?”
“No, but while placing the propulsion units, I tracked the motion of Decimus against the surrounding stars and extrapolated. I calculated a ninety-eight percent chance of a catastrophic collision with Earth, extinguishing all life. Therefore, I concluded the purpose of this mission is to nudge Decimus into a new orbit that will spare our planet.”
Clawson drew in a deep breath. “I must admire your intuition.”
ANNIE’s foam-and-fiberglass hand seized Clawson’s shoulder. “Clawson, we must leave immediately.”
“Sorry?”
“No time to explain.” The robot’s magnetic soles locked to the floor as ANNIE forced Clawson into the chair and punched the emergency launch.
“What are you doing?” Clawson started to rise, but the automated belts deployed, strapping him in while the ascent rockets ignited.
Pangaea shot up from Decimus as orange streams spewed across the gray landscape.
ANNIE released Clawson from the chair. “Sorry for my abruptness, but if we hadn’t launched, we’d be incinerated.”
Clawson watched out the forward porthole as the entire basin below trembled and spiderwebbed with cracks. Ghostly orange steam continued to emerge, engulfing the surface.
He turned to ANNIE. “What’s happening?”
“The propulsion units ignited a subterranean fissure of magma, triggering a global quake. The entire planetoid is breaking up.”
Debris dissipated into space like spent dandelion seeds, and Clawson mused aloud, “Perhaps our mission was more successful than we could have anticipated.”
“That depends on how you define success. The metallic core, while much smaller than Decimus, remains on a collision course with Earth. Though most life will survive the initial impact, the aftereffects will be catastrophic. Debris will block the sun and hinder photosynthesis. Plants will die. Entire food chains will collapse. While smaller creatures such as birds and mammals will likely survive, most large organisms such as yourself will die off after approximately three generations.”
Clawson felt his insides collapse. “We have to tell GASPE.”
“We cannot. Our antenna was irreparably damaged during the launch. We have no communication with Earth.”
“So, what can we do?”
ANNIE projected a hologram of the solar system tracking Decimus-core and Pangaea. “If we fire thrusters at the right moment, we can get a gravity assist from Mars, achieve a higher speed than Decimus-core, and reach Earth several days before impact. You could warn them.”
“Rush home to be the most hated reptile on the planet?” Clawson sighed. “I’m almost better off staying here.”
“Without the thruster fire, Pangaea could devote all energy to life support and sustain you up to a month past the date of impact.” ANNIE paused. “If you choose to do this, you would spend the time with someone who loves you.”
Clawson took ANNIE’s hand in his velociraptor claw. “I love you too, ANNIE.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
That was unexpected! Great story.
Glad you liked it!
Amazing how two words in the last paragraph can change your understanding of the whole story! This was great!
Thank you!
Poor dinos. A few millions years will erase a lot of things.
Great story.
Thanks for reading! I’m glad you liked it.
Fantastic, John, all the way through! But that last line totally blew me away! Great story!