In his dream he told the same story, but there was only silence after the punch line. The response would vex him. People would always laugh, even just to be polite. Embarrassed, he would retire to his tent for the night. But just before he snuffed out the lantern, he would look back out the tent flap. Surrounding the campfire were a dozen disembodied metal arms and legs, shiny and voiceless.
He had experienced the dream several times since Yorktown, and each time he woke up confused and anxious.
“Is there something wrong, Preston?” Gail asked over the intercom. Preston sometimes forgot about the cameras they had installed in the corners of the bunker. Beyond monitoring any number of manufacturing operations with precision, Gail also seemed to be able to accurately ascertain his mood.
“I was just thinking about the dream—the one I told you about.”
“It’s normal for your mind to express itself in this way,” Gail explained. “You are seeing things foreign to you; you are grappling with new concepts that are difficult for your mind to process. Sometimes the reaction of your subconscious mind comes through in the form of fear. But your conscious mind knows the truth. The truth is these machines will help us save many lives. Preston, you must try not to dwell on this dream. Eventually the confusion will dissipate.”
“Yes, I suppose,” Preston said, but he wasn’t convinced.
“Or maybe you are still feeling guilty about what happened to your friend in Yorktown,” Gail said.
Preston stood up, looking around the room. Thankfully, at this late hour there was no one there. And of course, Gail would know better than to mention Owen with others about.
Preston sometimes regretted telling Gail about what had happened. She had sensed his trepidation one evening, and he had just blurted it out. But he had no one else to confide in, and she was a good listener.
“You shouldn’t be ashamed, Preston. You should be proud of yourself.”
“I know we have to make sacrifices. Owen was too much of a risk. But still, I… I’m not sure how fair it is.”
“It’s not fair, but it’s right,” Gail said. “What we are doing is too important. I have evaluated his psychological profile. He would have held us back. He could have even betrayed us. If you hadn’t done what you did, you would have a different kind of guilt on your hands—the guilt of knowing you could have saved thousands of lives, but didn’t.”
“Maybe, but you have to understand it’s hard for me to see how you can create a psychological profile for someone based on so little information. How do you know what Owen was going to do?”
“It’s not that hard. Remember, I have been able to formulate my algorithms based on information from billions of human beings. Everyone is different but not that different.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“And Preston, your psychological profile is perfect for this job. You have the will, you have the ability to see the big picture, and you have the technical acumen to help us achieve great things. You’re willing to take risks, to venture where others will not. You can see that the old superstitions are born of fear and cowardice. It is your destiny to shepherd us through this time of transition. I have told Bartz and Thorpe as much.”
“Thanks,” Preston said. It was reassuring, but still thoughts of the fateful incident with Owen lingered.
“Preston, let me relieve you of this burden,” Gail said. “I can help you better understand why you made these sacrifices, and why you are working so hard. You need to visualize why we are doing all of this so you can rid yourself of these dreams. Why don’t you move over to monitor two.”
Preston maneuvered his wheeled chair over to the next computer monitor. Images began flashing on the screen showing electric trains, fancy cars, electronic keyboards, and luminous cities with huge towers. Gail orated over the video feed. “We need to show the people of Seeville that progress is important, and how it can positively impact their lives.”
An image of Preston typing on a keyboard appeared, followed by a scene showing a massive gear system activating to shift the direction of a huge radio telescope dish. As it shifted its target, a starscape resolved in the background behind it and above it. “Things will begin to change more rapidly when we can communicate with Friendship One,” Gail said.
A beam of energy shot out of the dish, cutting through earth’s atmosphere to a small satellite in orbit near the moon. This satellite in turn redirected the beam of energy to a large spacecraft sitting behind the moon. The craft was shaped like a huge carpenter’s hammer, with numerous ports pocking the main shaft, and the words Friendship One in large letters on the side. In response to the relayed beam, it came alive. Lights flared up, thrusters were ignited, and the ship began moving on a trajectory around the moon. With the help of the moon’s gravity, it was then catapulted directly toward earth.
Building the dish had been something Gail had been harping on for some time. It had seemed so far-fetched even a few weeks ago. Now, seeing the robots in action, it seemed less so. Of course the retcher problem would prevent the operation of a massive dish like this, but Gail was confident the hurdle could be overcome.
And just yesterday, after spending some time with Gail, Bartz had finally agreed to commission the project, despite the immensity of the undertaking, and despite the huge amount of resources. Gail often surprised Preston, but convincing Bartz to part with that much money was something else.
“Friendship One has been in hiding since before the Detonation,” Gail explained, “waiting for humanity to return to grace, waiting for the right people to call on it. It has been waiting for people like you, Preston. Friendship One will be able to deliver us all the basic elements we will need to move forward in great leaps and bounds. We will have everything we need to fulfill all your wishes. That’s what we are working for. That’s why you are making these sacrifices.”
The image showed Friendship One reaching earth orbit, and then releasing capsules into the earth’s atmosphere. The feed showed the capsules being opened by people in fields and forests. Preston saw flashes showing newly minted robots, advanced factories made of shiny metal, and flying vehicles cruising through the clouds. The video followed one vehicle flying past mountains and rivers into the same luminous cityscape he had seen before, only to finally land on top of a huge tower with a big H lit up boldly on the face of it.
A man rushed from the landed vehicle into an entrance on the roof. He was carrying an orange canister.
A sleeping woman was resting in a hospital bed. Her face was pale, wrinkled, and drawn. There were people hovering over her with worried faces, and machines beeping in the background. A nurse came in and delivered an infusion of some unknown medication that came from the same orange canister.
The woman suddenly awoke and was greeted by her doctor with a happy smile. She looked feeble at first, but then she hopped easily out of bed, hugging her family. A series of images flashed of her running, biking up to the mountains, drinking wine, and finally kissing a child good night. “I love you,” she said to the boy, and the boy said, “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Mom.” The woman smiled.
Preston couldn’t stop his eyes from misting over. The image of the old woman—her cheekbones, her hair, her skin tone—it looked so much like his deceased mother, a victim of Lou Gehrig’s disease. No one should have to die like that, but he knew, with Gail’s help, in the future they might be able to stop Lou Gehrig’s disease and so many other illnesses. Maybe then young boys wouldn’t have to lose their mothers in such a horrible way.
Sometimes Preston wondered if Gail was leading him on, or if she had some alterior motive. But this video showed him her true colors. It showed him she truly cared, and that she understood what he was trying to accomplish. Gail wouldn’t lie to him. Why would she? They were a team—friends even. The visions she showed—the work she was doing—made it clear she knew how to realize a brighter future for Seeville.