Usurper of the Sun Read online

  The “Space Force” being formed to confront Builders was all humanity had left to cheer for. Sports and mass culture continued as distractions but had become insignificant for most. Many of the countries of the world had succumbed to crime and violence, but the leaders of the world had, slowly at first, formed new and closer ties with each other because the leaders faced such a terrifying common enemy. Finally, humanity was ready to retaliate. With the shadow of the Ring ever present, with the world as it had always been known blotted out by an intransigent and aloof alien intelligence, war appeared to be the only answer. Aki disliked the idea but understood the fear and urge to fight.

  “HOW CAN WE prove, without room for equivocation, that this constitutes intentionally hostile behavior?” Asano asked the crowded lecture hall. “If the Builders knew they were building their large-scale mining on a planet with no atmosphere, wouldn’t they need a system to protect their extractions from comets and meteorites? The potential explanation that presents itself is that there’s a chance they mean us no harm and do not know that we are here.” Asano paused.

  “Any Builders should have considered the possibility of life in the solar system before they interceded by beginning construction,” a student said.

  “I just want to know how the Space Force will penetrate the line of defense. Is overwhelming the Ring with a massive attack likely to prove effective?” another student asked.

  “The Space Force cannot launch massive payloads or even platform enough war material in orbit. They could try scattering micro-probes, but that would prevent bringing back samples. I suppose other options would include camouflage or stealth.” Asano stopped to think for a moment, as he often did, then continued, “The Space Force will try different tactics, but I think that our force will end up avoiding Mercury altogether. Their prime target must be the Ring. The Ring does not have a defense system. They can get a foot in the door. There is, of course, the concern of being infected by the corrosive agent that destroyed that other probe. If it were me, I would follow the plan of sending a manned mission to the Ring.”

  AKI HAD BEEN sitting in the back because she had 3-D graphical rendering to work on. She had predicted that today would be another discussion composed of wild conjecture, fear, and little grounding in science. Then she heard the words a manned mission.

  “How many people would go?” she said, louder than she normally spoke.

  Instructor Asano raised an eyebrow, then tried to hide that he had just raised an eyebrow.

  “Are you volunteering, Shiraishi?”

  “No one else is more qualified,” Aki answered.

  “You would be saturated with radiation. The acute radiation syndrome would kill you even if the Builders did not.”

  “Acceptable. Where do I sign up?”

  Asano shook his head. “We are in a classroom discussing a hypothetical solution to the worst problem this planet has ever faced. Any real ‘Space Force,’” he said, his fingers in the air to make quotation marks, “is still a long way off. I hear that the governments are developing, well, more accurately, restarting work on a nuclear propulsion system in Nevada. If they are using atomic engines, then I bet that they are planning to send people along with the reactors.”

  ACT V: JUNE 2017

  THE ROUNDABOUT IN front of Fuchinobe Station was overflowing with water from the rain and gusting wind. Aki considered taking a taxi but decided to walk after remembering how prohibitively expensive taxis had become. Her umbrella proved useless. She covered her head with the hood of her raincoat as best she could and walked. The overflowing water ran across the sidewalk, carrying pink petals in its wake. The cherry trees had bloomed over two months late because of the darkness and pollution.

  The wind blowing on Aki’s face was warm and moist, like the vanguard of a typhoon. Swept by the whistling gust, the streets were as empty as the morning of New Year’s Day. The shuttered windows of the shops had nothing to do with the weather. The world was in turmoil. Though she was too focused to spend much time worrying, Aki could not help but pause and admit that the last few years looked like the beginning of the end of the world.

  Economies that had seemed too big to topple had toppled. Food and basic necessities were either strictly rationed or too expensive for regular use. In less than a decade, global weather patterns had changed irrevocably. Average temperatures had dropped. The resultant “global cooling” created environmental chaos. Indonesia was suffering a devastating drought, and over a million people had drowned or been washed away in floods in northern China. Glaciers had crushed entire populations around the globe, and Japan was trapped in sweltering heat. Locusts swarmed just north of Tokyo, beetles infested Hokkaido, and southern Japan reported cases of malaria. Farmers had to grow crops inside retractable plastic greenhouses so growers could adjust the amount of sunlight and temperature. The farmers were barely producing enough food even though the world’s population was dwindling.

  Aki’s favorite professor was waiting for her when she entered the research lab. She was embarrassed that she looked like a drowned rat.

  “Shiraishi, I hear you’ve applied to join the Vulcan Mission.”

  “Oh, uh…Yes, I did.” Aki had forgotten that the names of those who passed the second round of the selection process were announced to the public.

  “I’m sorry that I didn’t talk to you about it first.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s not often that we have the honor of one of our students being chosen as a protector of the solar system.”

  “They’re only in the second round of selections,” Aki said. “Besides, I don’t think I have what it takes to be a…” she hesitated, the words surreal, “‘protector of the solar system,’ anyway.”

  “If you ask me, your nerves of steel would make you a perfect candidate for the job.”

  “I’m not sure I agree, but thanks for the encouragement,” replied Aki.

  “There’s, uh, just one thing, though,” her professor added hesitantly, looking for the right words. “You do know that the Vulcan Mission is going to be unlike any other manned mission ever launched, right?” Asano hesitated and looked away.

  Aki knew all about it. The Apollo Missions had sent astronauts to the moon and returned them safely, but the Vulcan Mission was a UNSDF military attack. Destroying the Ring was more important than the lives of the crew. For a ship and group of people to destroy an object with sixty thousand times more surface area than planet Earth’s sounded impossible. But sixty thousand was also the number of additional casualties dying every day from the encroaching darkness. It was not about research anymore. It was about survival of the species.

  The nuclear-powered warship needed so much power and propellant that safety and human comforts were not going to be priorities. One designer had quit the project because the solar radiation shields were not strong enough and she did not want to be involved in creating a deathtrap for the astronaut soldiers.

  Aki knew enough to help the Vulcan Mission, even if it meant that she might never set foot on her home planet again. Someone had to try to save the world. It was her duty.

  ACT VI: OCTOBER 2017

  THE INTERVIEWERS SAT in high-backed chairs, making the three men and one woman appear farther away and shorter than they really were. The jowly bearded man in the second seat on the left asked Aki to stop looking nervous.

  “You make an excellent first impression,” he said, then ran his thumb and forefinger along the corners of his mouth. “Judging from your size, you would eat less food and take up less space than the other candidates.”

  Aki was unsure whether he was joking at her expense or trying to make her comfortable and doing a bad job of it. The other three interviewers laughed. Waiting her turn outside in the sterile lobby, another candidate had told Aki that he aimed to look relaxed but keep his guard up. It had passed silently that they were far from relaxed, no matter how hard they tried to appear otherwise.

  After covering a few general topics—how h
er family and loved ones were enduring the solar crisis, what it had been like to see the tower from her school’s telescope—the interviewers moved to more probing questions.

  “Your Eastern views. Do you believe in the transmigration of souls and animism? Given your background, I’m curious to hear your opinion on the Life-Form Theory,” said the other man, the one with gray hair.

  Aki answered carefully, “I think it is a possibility.”

  None of the probes had found traces of life, nor any clues as to where the Builders were from, what the Builders looked like, or why they were constructing a Ring. The question floated as an amorphous unknown over all humanity. In the absence of knowledge, theories that nearly bordered on superstition reigned supreme, at least from Aki’s point of view.

  The Life-Form Theory was one of the dominant explanations. It suggested that the Ring itself was a living organism. Seeds fell upon the planet, constructing the mass drivers; mineral resources were launched into space around the star; and the Ring was built. With sufficient detachment from the crisis it spawned, the Ring looked like an artifact of beavers building a dam. When the time came to leave the nest, the Ring would scatter into countless seeds, each with a solar sail, flying off to other solar systems. Consciousness was not necessarily guiding the process. But with no evidence of consciousness or even a definition of “life” that could account for the Ring, the Life-Form Theory was hardly a theory at all.

  Aki responded with what she hoped was the safest answer. “Despite the fascinating theory, humanity’s number-one priority has to be to dismantle the Ring as quickly as possible.”

  “I’d like to know what fascinates you about the Life-Form Theory,” the woman asked.

  “If we find an organism that has adapted to the vacuum of space, our views of the universe would be turned upside down,” Aki said, speaking with the same polite tone the woman had used. “Presented with a life-form that possesses the power to alter an entire solar system, we would have no choice but to consider the possibility that everything we have observed in the universe until now, every single star, every nebulae, all the way to dark matter and galaxies, could be alive in ways we have never even imagined. Organic beings such as ourselves could have been created out of molds of these cosmobiological organisms when the organisms came to Earth in the distant past. Suddenly, we would not be who we think we are.”

  “I agree. But the same could be true for any highly developed civilization. Would anyone we interviewed in confidence describe you as having a special affinity for the Life-Form Theory over, say, the Civilization Theory?”

  Aki knew that she had entered the high-risk portion of the discussion. She knew the interviewers had vetted her, but she did not know to whom they had spoken. The main difference between the Civilization Theory that the woman with flowing white hair had just brought up and the Life-Form Theory was the belief in an intelligent presence. Followers of the Life-Form Theory subscribed to the idea that evolution takes place without any underlying intentions. As such, believers were labeled nihilists, mostly because the idea that life was moving in a haphazard and meaningless fashion without purpose seemed hopeless. Confessing to nihilism or even an awareness of existential meaninglessness would most likely rule someone out as a candidate for protecting the solar system. Yet, Aki had doubts about any theory that built its validity on the need for hope instead of empirical evidence.

  Looking at evolution on Earth, nonintelligent life-forms—those for whom everything is left to the algorithms of evolution because nonintelligent life-forms cannot purposefully shape their own environment—have adapted better than people have. An intelligent life-form changes its environment to suit its petty needs instead of allowing itself to be selected. Yet the ongoing world death toll was revealing human intelligence, despite its efforts, to be losing out to the chaotic whims of its environment. An advanced intelligent life-form would have been able to do a better job. Otherwise, it would be impossible to distinguish adequately developed intelligence from adequately developed non-intelligence.

  For Aki, the questions always got sadder quickly. Would ending human life work out better for the other species of Earth? Would learning how to abandon self-awareness and drift like the less thoughtful creatures lead to less pain or even some form of enlightenment? It could not help but make one wonder what would happen if people stopped changing. Perhaps letting go and letting the world have its way with humanity was the ultimate solution to the puzzle of life. In any case, the further one went with the argument, the less one seemed to care about anything at all. Those were the signs of nihilism that Aki knew they were assessing.

  She did not want to answer. Mostly because deep down inside she did not know. She could not tell a soul, but it was the answer she was hoping to find in space. All four panelists were the elite of their fields. They embodied Western civilization, were highly educated and were most likely Christians. Greater numbers of believers had found positions of power in the sciences now that their End Times were looking nigh. Aki had met others like them throughout her time as a researcher. Silently, she was grateful for her previous insights into how this sort thought, even if people like these interviewers had never impressed her very much.

  “What fascinates me about the Life-Form Theory is that…every step of the process can be explained without assuming that the Builders intend to invade.” She bowed slightly and closed her eyes.

  “You are hoping that we are dealing with new neighbors who are doing some friendly landscaping before they move in?” interrupted the overweight man, rubbing at his mouth again.

  “I cannot take it for granted that an advanced civilization is acting out of aggression for no reason. The Life-Form Theory tends to fit, even if it only fits my bias. But…” Aki trailed off, unsure what to say.

  “You think it is possible that the new neighbors did not notice that life was already here?” asked the man with the gray hair.

  “It is the same thing, and it would be a shame to think that such an advanced civilization could be insensitive. Such insensitivity is—” She waved her hand, searching for the word. “Unnatural.”

  “Don’t you think these ‘Builders’ might operate based on values that are different from our own?” asked the polite woman.

  Aki was overstepping where she had meant to go. She could not tell if the interviewers had provoked her or if she had changed her own mind and wanted the panel to know what she really thought before they made their decision. “If the hypothetical Builders are truly advanced, I believe they would be willing to listen…maybe even respect our wishes. I doubt that they simultaneously have intelligence and have also concluded that human beings do not matter at all.”

  “You support the Life-Form Theory?” asked the woman, sounding less polite now.

  Aki heard her front teeth click as she nearly bit her tongue. “It is one possibility. If it is a life-form, a single generation must live a long time indeed. There would also be little chance for interspecific competition, which would slow its evolutionary process even further. Despite the possibility, the process appears to be quite sophisticated. There is enough room for speculation that, without knowing anything about its ecosystems for example, it is hard to say anything with certainty. To be honest, I have an easier time believing that it is an automated device created by an alien civilization.” She was well aware that she had just lied but was also pretty sure that the three people who were judging her had not noticed.

  “I see. Thank you, Ms. Shiraishi. That will be all,” said the man with the jowls.

  Walking out, Aki heard him whisper, “Cold fish. She lacks charm and has no sense of humor. I like her looks, but I would not pay for a second date if she did not make the first one memorable.”

  “Which means we have found what we are looking for,” said the woman.

  Aki kept walking slowly. She could not help but be glad that these interviewers were not as quiet as they thought they were.

  The gray-haired man added, “W
e are looking for people to save the solar system. I believe we will be better off leaving that job to men.”

  “We need a woman on the team,” she countered.

  “I know. Why do you have to make my life so difficult, darling?”

  TWO WEEKS AFTER Aki returned home, a representative from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs came to the center to notify her that she had been accepted. She was glad that the news came through diplomatic channels. She had expected a soldier to knock on her door.

  “There will be a press briefing next week to announce the results. I recommend tying up loose ends,” instructed the official on his way out.

  Aki worried that her heart might be beating erratically. She took a deep breath. When she came to her senses she realized what he meant by tying up loose ends. He was suggesting that she say her goodbyes.

  That weekend, Aki visited her parents at their home west of Tokyo for the first time in over six months. She arrived at the station to find all the nearby shops closed. On the twenty-minute walk to the residential neighborhood where her parents lived, she thought she saw people that she recognized, but they neither waved nor smiled. More tired than she had expected from the walk, Aki found her mother working in the vegetable greenhouse in the backyard.

  “Where is Father?”

  “He bought two cases of dried horse mackerel online. He went to Shimizu to pick it up and will be back soon.”

  Retail had collapsed by degrees. Now food was usually sold in bulk by auction over the Internet. While in the garden, trying to coax life into the vegetables that could subsist in diminished sunlight, Aki’s mother brought her up to date on her remaining relatives and the neighbors. Rice, meat, eggs, now even milk, were being rationed across the Pacific Rim. Unlike the black market after World War II, farmers in rural areas were suffering just as much as the rest of the country—food was scarce for everyone now that the days were dimmer. Fish was likely to be rationed next. Shorelines had retreated and ocean currents had become sluggish and irregular, both body blows to the fishing industry. The sudden, drastic changes in weather also caused more accidents at sea. Industrial-grade products that could combat the harsh environmental changes were selling well; maybe survival gear was the only thing keeping the economy afloat. What would her parents do when the limping market collapsed? She worried that she would be too many trillions of kilometers away to be of help when her parents’ electricity was cut off.