Solutions: The Dilemma of Hopelessness by James Gerard (great novels of all time .txt) 📕

“Has the feeling of a small apartment,” noted Charles.

“Timothy likes it,” responded Robert.  “You want to see the bottom deck?”

“What’s down there?”

The oxygen and nitrogen mixing chamber and the waste treatment systems.”

“I’ll pass.”

Robert led the way again as he guided Charles to the access door to the sleeping chamber.  He slid it open revealing the contents.

Charles examined the terminal on the side of the wheel.  “Timothy will be able to keep an eye on the ship’s operation while he is in here?”

“Yes.  It’s one of the dispersed computer terminals throughout the ship.  And the gear attached to the axle casing is the virtual reality entertainment system complete with a stimulus suit, as well as the monitor for viewing the various video discs he requested for the journey.”

“What type of discs and programs did he request?”

“Just a mix of stuff.”

The door to the mid module slipped open with a slight touch of Robert’s finger.

Charles felt the darkness of the corridor envelop him as they glided out of the chamber.  His head raised as overhead lights suddenly flashed on.  The beams showered the gray walls with white illumination, revealed a path clear of obstructions, highlighted the hand rails and supports designed to lend a hand to Timothy while moving about.

Robert halted his momentum at a door, and anchored to a hand hold, slid the door open.  “This is the terrarium that will house and maintain the dwarf fruit trees.”

“Is it very complicated to maintain?”

“Not at all.  Each compartment is maintained by humidistats, thermometers, and light densitometers.”  Robert pointed to one of two computer terminals sitting quiet in the room.  “And each section is controlled by that environmental and atmospheric analyzer.”

“That doesn’t leave Timothy with too much to do does it?”

“Actually, he will be spending a considerable amount of time between the two terrariums.  He’ll need to provide the analyzer daily soil samples and input the physical conditions of the various self-pollinating food plants, as well as planting, pruning, harvesting, and preparing the food for cold storage.”

“How much of the food are the plants expected to provide over the life of the mission?”

“All the fruit and vegetable needs.”

“And the watering system?”

Robert pointed to a nub on the wheel.  “A spigot attaches to that port.  It pumps in reclamated water, and then it’s distributed evenly once the wheel is activated.  And if he needs to, he can also tap into the fresh water tank if oxygen levels in the soil become deficient.”

Charles shook his head.  “Ten years of near constant rotation.”

“The axles utilize a system of frictionless bearings supported be electro-magnetism.  The same trouble free wheels currently in use at Horizon.”

“It appears you have covered much more than what I included in the initial blueprints.”

“You did pretty good for working over the phone,” said Robert.

Charles glided into one of the compartments of the empty wheel.  “It’s certainly roomy in here,” he observed.

“To assure the plants’ success,” Robert shouted, “the storage compartment over there contains replacements for every component needed to maintain the growth.”

“When do you plan to move the plants in?” asked Charles as he floated out of the wheel.

“Timothy will begin setting up both terrariums tomorrow.”

Charles smiled.  Perhaps the suspicions were unwarranted.  He felt all was well.

“If you follow me,” said Robert.

They glided over checkerboard panels of red and black access panels covering some of the life sustaining oxygen and nitrogen tanks Robert had mentioned.  Robert also pointed out the various storage areas housing stocks of replacement regulators, electrical equipment, computers and monitors, and other odds and ends just in the event of a system catastrophe.

Robert took him on quick tours of the dry storage rooms that were filled with packages of colorful varieties of emergency fruits and vegetables, and the stock of compacted portions of meats and rice.

The water tank announced its presence as they continued their glide towards the aft section.  Charles scanned its stretched body punctured by an octopus spread of outlet conduits converging to a singular pipe penetrating the floor.  From there, he envisioned the narrow pipe running the length of the module delivering its fluids to the bottom deck.

While Charles continued to stare at the floorboards, he failed to notice that Robert had halted his momentum.

“Sorry,” said Charles as his head rammed Robert hanging still before the door to the aft section.

The door slid open.  Clouds of mist puffed out from Robert’s mouth as he informed Charles of the components within.  He lifted one of the floorboards to expose the machinery within.  “Here,” he said, “are some of the avionics computers which serve as the global network between the forward and aft avionics and propulsion units.”

Charles did not bother to take a look at the guts of the ship.  Instead, his head raised to peer over the thick conduit above.  There he caught a glimpse of one the cameras.

“That contains the electrical cable linking all systems,” said Robert.

“Does it just serve as a link, or does it have other purposes?”

“It’s one of its main purposes, yes.  In the event a system or subsystem breaks down, its main purpose is to reroute that system’s function to the other avionics system, or maintain the system itself if necessary.”

“Does it also control the fault tolerant network?”

“Yes.”

“Why the need for three avionics systems?  I was under the impression that one alone would be sufficient?”

“By keeping intact the avionics and propulsion units of the shuttle’s engine, we were able to create a wider dispersement of central networks, thereby cutting down the possibility of a single catastrophic event halting the mission.”

Robert glided further into the coldness of the aft section.  “The various tanks you see are the rest of the oxygen, nitrogen, and hydrogen tanks I told you about.”

“How much extra air did you include?”

“We allowed for a ten percent volume loss of atmosphere from the ship a year.  That means the ship could lose the entire volume for approximately twenty-eight days out of the year, and there still would be ample atmosphere for the expected mission time.”

“Do you expect leaks?”

“The only loss of atmosphere will result from the necessary purging of toxic gasses emitted from the electrical systems and various plastics throughout the ship.”

“Are you talking about dangerous levels of toxicity?”

“Oh no.  The planting bins are the ones that pose the most danger.  It will just depend on how well Timothy maintains the wheels,” said Robert as he glided towards a door.  Charles followed.

“How will the gasses be removed?”

“An active filtering system in the vents and loops.”

They glided through the door of the last section.  “This is the nuclear power plant,” said Robert.

Charles peered over the tubes of the hydrogen tanks neatly lined and secured in braces of metal, then turned his attention back to Robert.  “No way it will fail?”

“It’s the same type of reactor used at Horizon.  In fact, during the seven years they’ve been in operation there, no one has yet to touch them.  And they’re maintenance free through fourteen years of operating life,” answered Robert.  “The pipes leading out of the reactor and into the wall are lithium conduits directly routed to the exterior to dispense excess heat.  And because it is compact, there is more than ample shielding to prevent any radiation contamination.”

“Why the four generators?”

“If one or more of the generators fail, the others will assure all systems receive power.  In fact, one of these babies alone can support the minimum power needs of all vital systems.”

“I see,” responded Charles.  “And behind that wall?”

“The thermal nuclear engine.  The conduits penetrating the wall are the hydrogen feeding lines to the combustion chamber.  Timothy will not enter that section at all.”

“But if it should falter during the mission?”

“Well, if it does, it does.  But there are a number of prerecorded messages that will automatically start transmitting to notify whoever or whatever of any such developments.  But I’m more than confident that there will be no problems.”

“I’m impressed,” said Charles.

“Well then, let me introduce you to some of my team members.”

A temporary door to a service bay swished open.  Charles raised his eyebrows in reaction to the sight of the workers.  They were gliding in and out, back and forth to panels of flashing lights, and manipulating dials and switches as they apparently probed and prodded the ship’s systems.

“I thought all unnecessary personnel would have been cleared out by now?”

“Don’t worry.  Most of them will be departing the station in a couple of hours on the shuttle you came up in.”

“Besides them, what about others?”

“All nonessential personnel were removed a week ago.  Only a skeleton crew is aboard the station.”

“Good, very good,” said Charles.  “By the way, would it be okay if I spoke with Timothy?”

“Sorry Charles.  Timothy has requested some time to himself.”

Suspicions, once eliminated, now disturbed his mind anew as he thought why they would even bother to grant Timothy’s request if they believed he was a repatriated citizen.  He turned to Robert.  “May I ask why?”

“He says he’s worn himself out from all his enthusiasm.  He just wants some time to relax.  It’s really no big thing.”

“I just need to see him for a minute.”

“Please.  Just leave him alone right now.  You can see him tomorrow.”

“Sure.”  Charles smiled.  “Tomorrow will be fine.”

“You want to join me for a bite to eat?” asked Robert.

“Actually,” said Charles, “I’d like to take a closer look at the terrariums if you don’t mind.  I’ll grab a bite later, and then get some sleep.”

“Well, I suppose that would be okay,” said Robert.  “Do you know where the visitors’ modules are?”

Charles laughed.  “Right, in this maze.  I’ll just ask security for an escort.”

“Then I’ll talk with you tomorrow.”

Charles glided back through the swishing door of the aft section.  Though he still was concerned with Timothy, at least he knew he was aboard the station, and that through all appearances, the mission was a go.  He reminded himself that any doubts still lingering in the mind were more likely due to the excitement of the approaching launch—nothing more.

Charles went to great lengths to set up the solution.  There were the many phone calls to members of NASA and their subcontractors to attain information.  The times he sweated over telecommunications to and from his contacts that any clever fool could have stumbled upon if he or she could read between the lines.  No matter, he thought, time to do some work.

Charles glided through the ship, stopping at certain points to make adjustments, and added a program here and there—nothing that the team could discover, for the changes and adjustments he made were for Timothy alone.

 A sleep pouch lay stiff against a wall.  A roast beef sandwich, nibbled at a corner exposed through its wrapping, hung suspended as Charles spun around in the confines of his quarters.  His finger throbbed from the constant stabbing of a button that buzzed and buzzed other intercoms around the station.  If security had placed him under a curfew, he reasoned, then the others should be in their quarters too.  Then why doesn’t anyone answer?  The ship, Timothy, Robert and his team, he thought, must be gone.

Charles could only hope that it had been a nightmare agonizing his thoughts, but it was not.  The feel of gripping tension in clenched fists