In a flash, Ali saw the grand design.
Helios – Cooper, the failed President – intended to lay claim to the entire subbasement of the oceanic bowl. He was going to create a nation for himself. But a nation the size of the Pacific Ocean? She had to relay this information to January.
Ali sat in the darkness, gaping at the screen. It would be larger than all the nations on earth put together! Helios would own almost half the globe. What could you possibly do with such immense space? How could you manifest such power?
She was awed by the grandeur of it. Such imperial vision: it was virtually psychotic. And she and these scientists were to be the agents in gaining it.
Her neighbors were lodged in their own thoughts. Most were probably weighing the risks, adjusting their search goals, adapting to the vastness of the challenge, reckoning the odds.
'Shoat!' a man bellowed.
Shoat's face obligingly appeared at the podium light.
'No one said anything about this,' the man said.
'You did sign on for a year,' Shoat pointed out.
'You expect us to traverse the Pacific Ocean? A mile to three miles beneath the ocean floor? Through unexplored territory? Hadal territory?'
'I'll be with you every step of the way,' Shoat said.
'But no one's ever gone west of the Nazca Plate.'
'That's true. We'll be the first.'
'You're talking about being on the move for an entire year.'
'Precisely our reason for sending you a workout schedule over the last six months. All those climbing walls and StairMasters and heavy squats weren't for your cosmetic enhancement.'
Ali could sense the group calculating.
'You have no idea what's out there,' someone said.
'That's not exactly true,' Shoat said. 'We have some idea. Two years ago, a military reconnaisance probed some of the path. Basically they found the remains of a prehistoric passageway, a network of tunnels and chambers that are well marked and have been improved and maintained over a period of several thousand years. We think it may have been a kind of Silk Road for the Pacific abyss.'
'How far did the soldiers get?'
'Twenty-three miles,' Shoat answered. 'Then they turned around and came back.'
'Armed soldiers.'
Shoat was unflappable. 'They weren't prepared. We are.'
'What about hadals?'
'There hasn't been a sighting in over two years,' Shoat said. 'But just to be safe, Helios has hired a security force. They will accompany us every step of the way.'
A gentleman stood. He had Isaac Asimov muttonchops and black horn-rims, and had X'ed out the word 'Hi' on his name tag. Ali knew his face from the dust jackets of his numerous books: Donald Spurrier, a renowned primatologist. 'What about human limitations? Your projected route must be five thousand miles long.'
The cartographer turned to the glowing map. His finger traced a set of lines that ambled back and forth across the equatorial rhumb. 'In fact, with all the bends and turns and vertical loss and gain, a better estimate is eight thousand miles, plus or minus a thousand.'
'Eight thousand miles?' said Spurrier. 'In a single year? On foot?'
'For what it's worth, our train ride just gave us an easy thirteen hundred miles without a step.'
'Leaving a mere 6,700 miles. Are we supposed to run nonstop for a year?'
'Mother Nature is lending a hand,' the cartographer said.
'We've detected significant motion along the route,' Shoat said. 'We believe it's a river.'
'A river?'
'Moving from east to west. Thousands of miles long.'
'A theoretical river. You haven't seen it.'
'We'll be the first.'
Spurrier was no longer resisting. 'We won't go thirsty, then.'
'Don't you see?' Shoat said. 'It means we can float.' They were dazzled.
'What about supplies? How can we hope to carry enough for a year?'
'We start with porters. Every four to six weeks thereafter, we will be supplied by drill hole. Helios has already begun drilling supply holes for us at selected points. They will drill straight through the ocean floor to intersect our route, and lower food and gear. At those points, by the way, we'll have brief contact with the World. You'll be able to communicate with your families. We'll even be able to evacuate the sick or injured.'
It all sounded reasonable.
'It's radical. It's daring,' Shoat said. 'It's one year out of your lives. We could have spent it sitting on our butts in a hole like this. Instead, one year from now, we'll go down in history. You'll be writing papers and publishing books about this for the rest of your lives. It will cement your tenure, gain you chairs of departments, win you prizes and acclaim. Your children and grandchildren will beg you for the tale of what you're about to do.'
'This is a huge decision,' a man said. 'I need to consult my wife.' A general murmur agreed.
'I'm afraid the communications line is down.' It was a blatant lie, Ali could see it. But that was part of the price. He was drawing a line for them to step across. 'You may, of course, post mail. The next train back to Nazca City leaves two months from now.' Helios was playing hardball, a total embargo on information.
Shoat surveyed them with reptilian coolness. 'I don't expect everyone here tonight to be with us in the morning. You're free to return home, of course.' In two months' time, on the train. The expedition would have a tremendous head start on any leaks to the media. He looked at his watch.
'It's late,' he said. 'The expedition departs at 0600. That leaves only a few hours for you to sleep on your choices. That's enough, though. I'm a firm believer that each of us comes into this world with our decisions already made.'
The lights came up. Ali blinked. Everywhere, people were leaning forward onto seatbacks, rubbing their hands, making calculations. Faces were lit with excitement. Thinking fast, she looked for Ike's reaction to judge the proposition. But he had left while the lights were still off.
He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.
– FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE, Beyond Good and Evil
10
DIGITAL SATAN
Health Sciences Center, University of Colorado, Denver
'She was caught in a nursing home near Bartlesville, Oklahoma,' Dr. Yamamoto explained to them. Thomas and Vera Wallach and Foley, the industrialist, followed the physician from her office. Branch came last, eyes protected by dark ski goggles, sleeves buttoned at each wrist to hide his burn scars.