last byte
From the intersection of computational science and technological speculation,
with boundaries limited only by our ability to imagine what could be.
I
M
A
G
E
B
Y
H
E
L
E
N
F
I
E
L
D
rendezvous with an orbiting booster
for its return to Earth. Shekhov and
the newcomer cycled through the
habitat airlock and removed their
helmets inside the habitat.
The newcomer’s helmet came off
and freed a glorious halo of curly red
hair that expanded into the low-gravity
environment. “Andrea Caruthers re-
porting for duty sir,” she said.
“Welcome,” said Shekhov. “Today
we are having borscht and roast beef.
Enjoy.”
The food was surprisingly savory
considering it included no naturally
raised animal protein but was as nu-
tritious as an Earthly steak and po-
tato, along with an extra-nutritious
dessert. As they dug into the des-
sert, with the taste and consistency
of sherbet, chilled, as it was, in a
sunless crater beneath the far side’s
Earthless skies, she said, “It was
spectacular orbiting the Moon. De-
scending over the Neper and Jansky
craters, the view was awesome.”
“Awesome, indeed,” Shekhov agreed.
“But the crater walls keep me from see-
ing Earth. We always keep the laser from
pointing directly toward Earth, but it has
been a lonely six months. I am able to ex-
change messages with home only when
the comsat flies over, but that is not at all
the same as being in Moscow.”
“I’m amazed the laser has been op-
erating continuously for eight years!
Most people on Earth have dismissed
the project as Volkov’s folly. Few
know the light-travel-time for our
messages to Prox Cen b has passed,
plus enough time for a reply message
to arrive at the speed of light. It’s
no wonder
quarters as comfortable as a Caribbean
villa in tourist season.
When the shuttle was secured to the
pad and its engines safely deactivated,
Shekhov bounced over to it in the light
gravity (one-sixth Earth equivalent)
and pulled the latch that released the
supply capsule from the shuttle. The
capsule deployed its wheels and started to roll on a 100-meter roadway to the
habitat. The process was automated,
leaving him to turn his attention to
the space-suited figure of a passenger
exiting the airlock of the crew module. Giving a friendly wave, he radioed,
“Welcome to Hawking’s Nightmare.
You’re in time for lunch.” After living
here practically alone for six months
to manage the base, he was glad to
welcome a new crew member, any new
crew member.
The supply capsule docked with
the habitat, and the shuttle ignited
its engines to propel it back to lunar
orbit and where it was scheduled to
YURI SHEKHOV WAS outside the lunar
habitat in his space suit, preparing to
watch the supply shuttle from Earth
fire its retro rockets and land. The sun
glinted off the windows of the boxy
crew module, attached to its strange
collection of spherical pressurized fuel
tanks, rocket nozzles, and articulated
cushioned footpads, as it hovered suspended atop its rocket exhaust, carefully lowering itself onto the landing
pad. In the airless lunar environment,
the shuttle did not need to obey any
aerodynamic forms or compensate for
more than lunar gravity.
Shekhov had talked with the pilot,
who reported a nominal status during
the shuttle’s orbit and braking maneuvers just above the east edge of the lunar hemisphere that was visible from
Earth. It looked to be a flawless landing
near his optical-beacon habitat, located at 98 degrees east longitude, eight
degrees around to the lunar far side in
the crater named for American rocketry genius James H. Wyld. The pilot
had deftly avoided the structure behind
him that itself embodied the purpose
of the billion-dollar lunar base—a giant
45-meter telescope financed and built
by wealthy Russian fracking tycoon
Oleg Volkov. The telescope pointed
approximately 45 degrees southward,
toward the nearest star, Proxima Centauri, and its planetary consort, Prox
Cen b. A nuclear power plant buried 20
feet below the lunar surface nearby supplied a two-megawatt laser that pulsed
with infrared light, round the clock,
directed by the telescope with milli-arc-second accuracy, toward the exoplanet
four light years away. It also supplied
enough direct heat to make the human [CONTINUED ON P. 119]
DOI: 10.1145/3303769 David Allen Batchelor
Future Tense
Hawking’s Nightmare
Stephen Hawking warned us not to contact E. T.