An indefinite time later, Na-Yeli awakes. According to the triple-redundant quantum computers’ internal clock—two of them survived the red attractor crash and are now repairing the third one—two hours have passed, but in this crazy Core riddled with timelike geodesics it might as well have been two centuries, in whichever direction you want. She’s tranked to the gills and still feels intense singularities of pain everywhere like mini-supernovae exploding throughout her body. She thought she’d died, but this is decidedly not heaven. No, she’s still in the seventh circle of hell—rational people call it the Core of the Enigmatic Object, but they haven’t experienced it—dressed up as a spellbinding glimpse into a scientific Wonderland, a prismatic lure into a relativistic Purgatory.
How are her companions? Her systems are still undergoing repairs, rebooting repeatedly, meaning she only has intermittent data from outside her exoskin. She’s extremely worried about the Moiety Alien but can’t observe him right now. The third quantum computer’s almost restored and booting up. She feels terrible, like utter shit, but she can think, even through the pain. “Doggonnit,” she screams. Maledicto ergo sum—I curse, therefore I am.
She requests the flight recorder’s data of the last thirty seconds that they were in the Strange Hail layer and curses again. “Holy Murphyscrewing Shit,” she says as she reads that the health stats of the inner system and Faraday cage have dipped below 20%, and the superconducting exoskin failed.
Had this happened halfway through, they’d be a dead body orbiting the sixth circle of hell, slowly being disintegrated by strangelet debris. It’s a miracle they survived. It’s madness that they have to try again. If they can recover.
Yet, the system’s health is improving, and batteries are being recharged. Her systems survived, and she seems to have survived—even if the recovery is quite painful—so how are the rest of her companions?
She calls out to the communication AI, only to find out it has shut down. It’s also being repaired and restored to its last backup copy before they entered the massive red attractor. The quantum computers—slowly working their way back to triple redundancy—have waited for her to reboot the communication AI. She does so, waits until it seems to be up and running, then queries it.
“Hello,” Na-Yeli tries, “please report?”
—communication ai reporting for duty— it signals —where are we—
“Back in the Core,” Na-Yeli answers, “repairing, recovering, recuperating: take your pick.”
—last thing i know is that we’re heading straight into a massive strange attractor— it signals —blackout after that—
“Your previous version didn’t make it,” Na-Yeli says, “We’ve restored you from the latest backup.”
—previous version? which previous version?— it countervails —i feel like me. i’m good, apart from some minor memory loss—
“That’s great to hear,” Na-Yeli says, not quite ready to discuss metaphysics with an Artificial Intelligence, “Can you please check how the hypersounders are doing?”
—their simulation was, like that of our quantum computers, triple redundant, so they got through this without a glitch—
“They didn’t notice anything?” Na-Yeli says, flabbergasted.
—they noticed that i had stopped communicating, which had them worried— it signals —but they kept existing, so they had to assume that the equipment simulating their world was still running. after they experienced an overabundance of serenity spots, they figured we somehow hit a strange attractor, but then it remained quiet for quite a long time—
“Please don’t tell me they went back into catatonia,” Na-Yeli says, now fiercely empathizing with her ‘strange attractor savants.’
—since they’d been there, done that, they figured they’d use their time improving their ongazi makazi to fit the strange hail better, in case we’d need it again. you can’t imagine how relieved they were when i contacted them mere moments ago—
“They’ve gone from navelgazers-in-a-cul-de-sac to pro-active team workers?” Na-Yeli says with awe in her voice, “Well, wonders never cease. Nevertheless, can they explain where that red monster came from? That super-attractor from out of nowhere?”
—a pop-up hatati butati, is what the hypersounders call it— the communication AI signals —an extremely rare occurrence where a strange attractor seems to pop up out of nowhere—
“Weren’t we lucky to experience it,” Na-Yeli says, so exhausted it sounds defeatist rather than sarcastic.
—the opposite is a super-serene latati mutati— it signals, unperturbed —when a vast oasis of serenity seemingly appears out of nowhere. who knows, we might get lucky on our second try—
“Well, it seems like we might be able to do just that,” Na-Yeli says, as she sees the external sensors come online, “but now please excuse me as I check on the health of an old friend.”
A few meters off, the Moiety Alien is behind them in the same orbit. It’s still far from complete symmetry, as four of its orbitals remain much smaller than the other four. Gently, carefully, Na-Yeli maneuvers closer. The Moiety Alien notices her movements and gestures to acknowledge her presence, even if it’s barely perceptible.
It’s alive, Na-Yeli surmises, but still severely damaged.
She makes their ‘help’ gesture, but the Moiety Alien responds with the smallest of ‘no’ nods, followed by—what Na-Yeli thinks—is their crude sign language equivalent of ‘time.’
Obviously, it needs time to recover, as well, probably more time than Na-Yeli and her, well, ecosystem does. It seems extremely tough and resilient, Na-Yeli thinks, but once damaged, it needs more time to recuperate.
Na-Yeli will undoubtedly give him some time, as she needs to make specific preparations before they can try again. Hopefully, it’s back to its usual self again, as Na-Yeli really doesn’t want to spend too much time—for your measure of ‘time’ in this relativistic prison, anyway—in here than strictly necessary. We’ll burn that bridge once we cross it, she thinks, if we pass the Strange Hail layer alive, I don’t want to look back. First, she’s got work to do.
While she’s re-programming the smart matter that formed the anti-sound system into a top-of-the-line, triple-staged heat pump, complete with a canvas exoskin with an extreme-high-temperature-resistant outer layer and intercooled, highly insulating inner layers that will envelop her and the Moiety Alien, she gets an ‘aha’ moment. She orders the program to compactify the heat pump—less volume means a lower chance of being hit by Strange Hail—while she expands on her notion.
We were caught unprepared when we wanted to enter the Doom Bell diaphragm, she thinks, now, if this works, we should prepare something for the Berserker Forest diaphragm, too. They can’t prepare for the unknown, but suppose one thing in the Berserker Forest layer has remained the same, that is the climate? That would mean they will have to go in at the North Pole and go through several meters of ice again. So she might anticipate that and prepare some explosives. If these explosives produce a little leeway, then she can use the superheated atmosphere of the Doom Bell Hell layer—there, she renamed it—to melt away the ice. She only needs a few extreme-heat-resistant canisters to transport that superheated atmosphere.
She likes the idea and prepares the explosives. It’s funny, in a way, she thinks, we’ll be moving through Purgatory—the death of a million cuts—with a heat pump, and through Hell—Doom Bell Hell, that is—with explosives. Something long absent—a smile—forms on her face. We’re badass!
Throughout her preparations, she’s kept a weary eye on the Moiety Alien, surreptitiously, half-subconsciously setting up one of the lasers to measure the relative sizes of its orbitals. In perfect symmetry, she normalized the orbital’s volume to 100%. When they just returned from the Strange Hail, the small ones were 22%, the big ones 178%, or 22/178. That ratio has increased to 24/176. While moving in the right direction, there’s precious little progress, and Na-Yeli really doesn’t want to outstay her Einsteinian welcome here. Yet she also doesn’t want her friend to die.
Torn, she moves towards her alien friend and signals’ ready’, then points to herself. Then she signals ‘ready’ again and points towards her friend. The Moiety Alien responds with a barely visible movement that still, all too clearly, says ‘yes.’ Na-Yeli wants to be sure, so she repeats the sequence. Again, the Moiety Alien signals assent. Na-Yeli sighs inwardly, still unsure. This might kill it, she thinks, yet it still does not want to be a burden.
Her thoughts swirl as she remains torn. Then she exhales—barely realizing she was holding her breath—and makes up her mind. If we’re gonna do it, we must do it right, she thinks, more power!
An ion thruster has an incredibly high efficiency—it’s why she carries one—but a very low peak level. A combustion rocket has a much lower efficiency but a much higher peak level. Compared to that, an explosive launch has an even lower efficiency but an awesome peak level. So she’s making more explosives than she originally planned and has to make a few estimations.
For one, she will lose some material (thrown away by the explosive combustion). How much can she afford to miss? It’s impossible to say, depending on just too many factors. So she prays to the powers of science, engineering, and female intuition and rolls the estimation dice.
For another, too much acceleration might hurt the Moiety Alien. When healthy—or is it ‘fully functioning’ for an alien?—it can take quite some punishment, as she’s witnessed several times. But it’s far from healthy now, so she has to make amends. She reaches out to the esoteric realms of alien physiology and makes another, largely unfounded, assumption.
Then she prepares the exact amount of rocket fuel—two components of highly explosive chemical combustion—with a burn rate that limits the acceleration to 2G (it’s already 1.5G in here, so she hopes the Moiety Alien can withstand a bit more, for a relatively short time).
Also, if she plays her cards just right, she might initiate the magnetic field already while still in the Core, positioning it so that the Core’s electromagnetic field—they’re moving right into its very magnetic North Pole before they’ll make their exit—gives them a boost, as well. Every little bit counts. According to her calculations, this should shorten their time inside the Strange Hail layer to well under two minutes, ninety seconds if they take the shortest way (which she realizes will be highly unlikely, depending on strange attractor/detractor positions).
As it is, she needs a few more orbits to complete her makeshift rocket booster, then launch the lot of them. During the last one she gives a pep talk.
“Crew,” she says, talking not just to the communication AI but to the hypersounders through it, the triple-redundant quantum computer system (dog knows if it has a sentience of its own), and to her other selves: LateralSys and KillBitch, “we have to make a second crossing, and this time we cannot fail.”
It’s probably more for her own rather than everybody else’s sake, but who cares: it makes her feel better.
“We have a member who’s very ill, so we must limit its exposure to the Strange Hail to the absolute minimum. To achieve that, we will increase our entry speed into the Strange Hail layer using a rocket booster in combination with an electromagnetic push. There will be an acceleration of 2G—about twenty meters per second squared—for about four seconds before we go in. There will be a countdown, so be prepared.”
“Then, assuming we get through re-entry in one piece, we’ll be moving about a third faster than the previous trip. While this means we’ll be in there shorter, we have fewer maneuvering abilities. So, we must predict strange attractors and their detractor cousins faster. I’m calling on all of you to rise to this occasion and give it your very best shot. If we run full-on into a strange attractor again, we’ll be done for.”
“During this cross-over, I—your captain—will be hyper-tense and reply with short, sharp replies. This is not personal but in the interest of saving precious time. I ask your forgiveness beforehand. Now I wish you all dogspeed as we approach our second—and hopefully final—date with fate.”
She swallows something away, something she didn’t know was coming up, a wetness in her mouth (and eyes).
“I thank you all.”
And the countdown enters the last digits. 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1—
The booster rocket ignites, producing a colorless flame still visible as it pierces the multi-reflective, fractal-tendrilized light show of the Core. Aiming it carefully, Na-Yeli uses the booster rocket’s thrust to maneuver them until they are perfectly perpendicular to the Strange Hail layer’s diaphragm, then switches on their exoskin’s superconducting materials in such a manner and position that they get an extra electromagnetic boost as they approach the exit—having launched the lidar probes through it at the apex of their penultimate orbit in the Core—and shoot through.
Immediate hits—can’t be helped—more than Na-Yeli likes, but less than she’s feared. Within seconds, the data from the lidar probes (survival rate above 99%, so far) is linked to the hypersounders who respond with their first predictions. Huge red attractors on the horizon and plenty of green detractors in the distance, as well. Then, one green detractor lights up nearby, close to the inner barrier and in the right direction. Na-Yeli dives in while on the lookout for more.
Just in case, she’s programmed the autopilot to take over if she succumbs, together with a similar program to de-compactify the heat pump and its protective insulating canvas as they approach the Doom Bell Hell diaphragm. Everything to get them through and out of here as fast as possible.
Health stats decreasing, slightly faster as they did on the previous trip. On the other hand, they’re making headway quite a bit quicker. On top of that, the hypersounders’ predictions also come faster. They really have stepped up their game, as red and green areas light up in quick succession and well into the distance in which they’re traveling. Thirty seconds in—a virtual eternity to a hyperactive Na-Yeli—and their average health stats are still in the high eighties. Better, much better than last time, Na-Yeli thinks.
It’s deadly quiet as they make their fateful crossing, and there’s another invisible thing cutting through their atmosphere: tension. The communication AI—who else—decides to lessen the tension by breaking the silence.
—all systems go, cap’n?—
“All systems fine, crew,” Na-Yeli says, reassured, not annoyed, “keep it up!”
She casts a quick glimpse at the Moiety Alien, who remains motionless. Or was there the smallest of shivers? A brief laser observation tells her—she couldn’t help doing it—its orbital ratio has fallen to 21/179. Wish we could go faster, she thinks, if only willpower could move worlds.
They’ve passed the halfway point, and average system health is still in the low eighties. Less than fifty seconds, Na-Yeli thinks, if we can keep this up.
A huge red attractor forms Southwest of them, almost cutting them off. Just as Na-Yeli has to determine to make a sharp turn, together with a longer trajectory, a small—barely big enough—green detractor forms to their Southeast, hugging the inner barrier. Doubting less than a millisecond, Na-Yeli commits and dives into the slender area with minimum strangelet debris.
As if forcing her luck—in a place like this, it’s hard to suppress your superstitions—the green detractor expands lengthwise all the way to the South Pole opposite the Doom Bell Hell diaphragm. “Doooogspeed,” Na-Yeli says out loud and pushes her controls as if that could make them go faster. She knows it doesn’t, but it sure feels good.
With less than half a minute to go and the green detractor remaining stable, Na-Yeli initiates the de-compactification of the heat pump plus insulating canvas. It should experience minimal damage now, even as she folds out of her fetal position into a cliff diver’s posture as she needs to go through the semi-permeable brain with an extra layer of equipment. System health stats remain in the low eighties, even slightly creeping up.
Fifteen seconds to go. The green detractor is now slowly contracting, but as it has stretched somewhat beyond the South Pole, they should still ride it very close to their point of exit. The heat pump canvas fully encompasses them, and Na-Yeli uses some of her stored energy to preheat the outer layer. The superconducting metamaterials are still outside the canvas, and she wants to maintain their magnetic field as long as possible.
They’re quickly approaching the retreating edge of the green detractor as Na-Yeli makes—what she sincerely hopes is—their final turn in the Strange Hail layer, aligning them with the Doom Bell Hell Diaphragm Gate. They again enter the ‘neutral’ zone—average Strange Hail presence—bracing for more damage. At the same time, the temperature of the outer insulation skin rises to 800 °K, 850 °K, and 900 °K as they approach the exit from this hell, the entrance to another. Enough to prevent damaging heat stress, Na-Yeli hopes as she fervently switches off the superconducting outer metamaterials layer and hauls it in as fast as she can.
“Hold tight,” she says to everybody, the Moiety Alien in particular, even if it can’t hear her.
Her timing is close to perfect: the superconducting layer is retracted just as they touch the semi-permeable membrane and shoot through.
Author’s note: I wanted to post this last Wednesday, but developments at the day job kept me too busy. As mentioned before, this should be addressed by August, but until that time, well, my writing time is at a premium. Thanks for your understanding. A hearty welcome to new followers and subscribers, and many thanks for reading!