CHAPTER 16:
Tropical Heat
DARPA @YesDARPA
Announcing the 2042 Anthony Tether Conference. Join us next month as we showcase state-of-the-art prosthetic development in tribute to former DARPA Director (2001-2009), Dr. Anthony Tether.
USSF Office of Scientific Integration
@OSIGenBoatright
OSI is proud to announce that Colonel Glenn Shepard will be participating in the 2042 Tether Conference. Our program on lifestyle and occupational prosthetics is out of this world!
ChirpChat, June 2042
Instead of bikes, they opted for a scooter, and Jen rode behind Shep as he took them north to the surfing areas of Napili and Honolua bays, the beaches of Kapalua and Punalau, and the dramatic sight of the Nakalele Blowhole, where ocean waves drove a spray of water dozens of feet in the air through a gap in the lava rock lining the shore. She’d converted the arm strap of her purse into shoulder straps, and wore it as a backpack while she placed her arms around him and leaned into his back for the ride.
After an afternoon of sightseeing, followed by macadamia nut-crusted Mahi-Mahi, and an unobstructed view of the nearby island of Lanai, Shep announced that if they wanted to try to catch the famous “green-flash” of tropical sunset, they’d need to relocate to the balcony of his room a bit farther up the coast. His building had oceanfront rooms facing due west, looking between Lanai and Molokai. Moreover, it was on a slight cliff, so they’d gain the benefit of catching the light from the sun bending over the horizon.
As they sat, watching, Shep reached his right hand over and took Jen’s hand. She held their linked hands up in the fading light, and looked at them and then at him. She then reached over, grabbed his left hand, and held both of his up to compare. “You have tanned! Your skin is darker! How did you manage to match the color?”
“Spray tan,” he said, and laughed.
“Seriously?”
“Serious—” He broke off as she poked him with the umbrella from her Mai-Tai. “Okay, it’s a new development. When they re-skinned me after North Carolina, there was a crystal suspension in the mix, one that can be polarized with an acoustic signal, sort of like the privacy glass used in offices, or the rapid photosensors that keep bright flashes from overloading my bionic eye. I scan my tanned natural skin with my wristcomm, and it sends a signal to adjust the SymSkyn pigment. There’s only one problem—I can hear the damned signal, and it gives me headaches. I have to hope I get the tint matched the first time or I get a migraine from the ultrasonics.”
“I noticed you wincing in the shopping center.”
“Uh huh. The jewelry shop had an old security system, and it screeched.”
“Yikes. I wouldn’t have thought of that.”
“I can filter most of it out, as long as I’m expecting it. The problem is that it doesn’t have to be close for me to hear it. I can still hear the drums from the luau.”
“Well, it is just around Black Rock Point.”
“Not that one, the Huaka’i, up at the Diamond Resort.”
“That’s . . . what? A mile away?”
“One and a half.”
“Well, drums do carry long distances, especially over water.”
“True, but I can differentiate the different types of drums and hear the announcer as well. I occasionally catch bits of conversation from the boats offshore. Clear enough to know who’s talking, and who’s making love.”
The conversation made her shiver despite the warm night. She decided to change the topic. “And your eye? What do you see besides the sunset?”
He held up a finger, then pointed toward the setting sun. “Wait for it . . .”
Jen turned to watch as the last sliver of sun slipped below the horizon. There was the faintest hint of green to the upper edge of the red disk, then a faint line of green flashed upward as the last of the red disappeared.
“What did I see? I saw the spectrum analysis of the sunset change. I was able to detect which photons were coming straight at us, and which were bent by the atmosphere. I could tell that the flash was coming because of the change in the refracted light. I can look up and see stars a bit before the sky is dark enough, and I can make out individual objects over on Lanai and Molokai.”
“That’s . . . simply amazing.” Jen marveled at the superhuman capability of the man next to her, in stark contrast to the very warm, very real hand she held. She turned toward Shep, reached out her right hand to touch the left side of his face and turn his head in her direction. She held him for a moment, the feel of smooth skin and fine hairs under her touch. “And what do you see now?”
“I see—” But he never got to finish the sentence as Jen leaned over and kissed him.
When they broke for air, Shep pulled back slightly. “Um, I should warn you . . .”
Jen placed a forefinger over his lips. “Shh. I know. No agenda; just me and you.”
“In that case . . .” Shep pulled out of her embrace, stood up, then leaned her over to pick her up in his arms. He was extremely careful with the left arm, as if afraid he’d break her. He just used it to support her weight and wrapped his right arm around her as he whispered in her ear, “We’ll be more comfortable inside.”
A few hours later, they sat on the balcony again, looking up at the stars. Shep was dressed in shorts, Jen wore only a long T-shirt as she sat in his lap. His left hand rested on her hip, underneath the shirt, and he stroked his fingers idly against her skin. He was practicing his fine motor movements, but she could tell they weren’t easy. He’d done well enough, though.
With few light sources to their west, and the building blocking any light from the resort, the sky was filled with points of light. She asked, and he supplied all of the names—both real and fictional. They’d discovered a shared love of old science fiction adventures, and the talk quickly turned to Barsoom and Trantor, the Ringworld and galactic empires.
They sat silently for long intervals as well, with Jen leaning her head on Shep’s left shoulder. She couldn’t feel the transition from biological to bionic. She knew it was there, but tonight, it simply didn’t matter; he caressed her equally well with right hand and left.
After a long silence, Shep spoke, “You flatter me, Ms. Butler.”
“Oh? And just what did I do to deserve the last name basis again?” Jen arched an eyebrow. An ordinary man would not be able to see it in the dark, but she now knew from experience that Shep would.
He laughed. “Toothbrush, change of underwear, a sleep shirt.”
It was time to tease him back. Jen pulled back a bit and looked him in the eye. She affected her best South Georgia accent from her younger days and drawled, “Why sir, you malign my intentions! It is merely an old reporter’s habit. Always expect the flight to be canceled or the client to postpone until the next day!”
“So, you haven’t been chasing me since the day I ran my extreme triathlon?” He moved his hand off of her hip—his fingertips reaching for points a bit higher up.
Jen mock slapped his hand. “Well, I may have chased, but I never imagined just what it was I’ve caught!” It felt good to press herself against his chest and feel the deep, rumbling sensation of his laugh in response. He’d gone from taciturn and distrusting to this warm, gentle man over the weeks since they’d met.
“Oh, I am well and truly caught, milady. Hook, line and sinker.”
The response to the article was excellent. There were still a few xenophobes and conspiracy theorists who feared the mix of man and machine, but on the whole the comments and reactions were positive. Her publisher called the next morning, while Jen and Shep lingered over coffee and fresh pineapple on the balcony.
“Jennifer! My dear, the response to your article is fantastic! It’s been picked up by the wire services and has already been reprinted a dozen times—and that was just up until noon today!” Leo Garcia always seemed to speak in exclamation points. Jen imagined him signaling the punctuation with his hands as he talked on the comm.
“So, I guess you liked it.”
“Like it? I love it!” Leo said. “In fact, I got a call this morning from your General Boatright! I had to resist the urge to call you immediately because I knew it was two A.M. and you’d be asleep, but I have to tell you the good news! Space Force and MarsX love the article, it makes them look good having such a genuine hero, and they want a couple of follow-ups!”
Jen smiled to herself at the memory of just what she had been doing at two A.M. “What kind of follow-up?”
“Well, for one, the general thinks you should work with Shepard on his biography—do it as an ‘. . . autobiography as told to . . .’ book like you did with that chess master a couple years back!”
Jen had ghostwritten four autobiographies, including the chess guy, and they’d been well received.
“Uh huh, I can see doing that. I’ll need some travel time to finish out the interviews and talk to his friends and family members.”
“All doable, Jennifer, I’ve got my top people on it already.”
She paused a moment. A subconscious thought was trying to get her attention. “Wait, you said a ‘couple of follow-ups’?”
“Oh, yes! MarsX wants you to do a piece on their astronaut training program. They can embed you with the next training class.”
Jen thought about Shep’s report of his year at the high elevations on Hawaii. While it was appealing to think of writing—and experiencing—something that was such a huge part of Shep’s life, she was less than thrilled with the idea of a long separation just when they were starting to explore a relationship. “Um, okay. Let’s talk more about that one before I commit. It’s a physical challenge as well as a time commitment. If I’m going to be in the training class, I should ensure I fulfill all of the physical demands.”
“No problem! We’re thinking you should do the bio first, and maybe give us a feature on Boatright and the surgeon—what’s his name, Spruce? Yeah, Martin Spruce. Do those first, then we’ll see about the MarsX class. They don’t start for another six months.”
“Oh. Okay. That sounds reasonable.”
“Good. You’ve got another week. Spend it interviewing your bionic astronaut, and then get back here to the office. You don’t need to lay low any more. I’ve talked with legal, and they’ve talked with Garner. They pointed out that you now have some very powerful friends with the ability to drop things on him from very high altitudes! You don’t need to worry about him or his cronies from here on out. Enjoy the rest of your tropical vacation, then get back here and get to work.”
Jen disconnected from the call, and looked over at Shep, who was looking back at her with one eyebrow raised. The fact that it was his left eyebrow made her giggle. “Is that a bionic eyebrow?”
“Nope, just the work of an excellent plastic surgeon.”
“Well, I have another week, and it seems Leo wants me to ghostwrite your autobiography. Can you stand my presence for a bit longer?”
“That depends, are you going to commute from Kona or join me over here?”
“I have to go collect my things and check out of the hotel.”
“There’s a flight at noon from Kapalua. I’ll go with you.”
“Trying to make sure I come back?”
“Do I need to?” Shep gave her a look with wide eyes and an innocent expression, then laughed. “No, I have to drive up to Pohakuloa and supervise the packing of something that needs to be shipped back to the clinic. We can also go up to the telescopes on top of Mauna Kea. Since you’re going to write more, let me get you a tour of HI-SLOPE.”
“Oooh, that sounds good. More than just a trip over and back. Better pack a bag, Shep.”
“And book myself a room, too.”
Jen stood up, grabbed the cushion off her chair and hit Shepard with it. “Silly man.”
He reached out and pulled her down onto his lap.
She dropped the pillow and wrapped her arms around him as he kissed her.
The “something” at PTC was an exoskeleton similar to ones Jen had seen developed for soldiers and civilians in jobs that required heavy lifting. Shep had told her that there were several differences. He strapped on the exo and proceeded down the runway at the nearby Bradshaw Army Airfield. Despite having spent almost a month at sea level and not reacclimating himself to the elevation, he’d accelerated to almost forty miles per hour, then backed off to around thirty miles per hour for more than four laps around the thirty-seven-hundred-foot-long runway. Barely even breathing heavily as he finished the 5K run, Shep dismounted from the exo, then stood next to it as he moved his arms and legs and demonstrated the ability to control the exo’s movements even without being strapped inside. He walked the electromechanical skeleton over to their rented car and lifted one end off the ground.
“The same signals I use to operate my bionics can be used to command the exoskeleton.”
“But . . . you moved its right arm, too,” Jen protested.
“Yeah, well, there are pickups on those nerves for balance and coordination. It also lets me do magic tricks.”
“Hmm, maybe it’s just as well I didn’t put this in the article.” Jen made a scary face, then laughed at Shep’s reaction. She wasn’t quite sure when they’d progressed to the point that she could tease him about his bionics, but Nik had told her that when he started making jokes, it was a very good sign.
Thanks to Shep’s connections, they’d been able to visit the telescope complex at the summit of Mauna Kea after dark, and even observe some of the images collected through the thirty-meter telescope—the largest optical telescope in the world, and the highest elevation of any extra-large telescope. No longer just looking for planets around distant stars, the telescope was now engaged in getting all the information they could to determine if those planets could support life.
Dr. Johannsen, the astronomer operating the system that evening, was describing the current image. “That’s Trappist-2, a star about thirty-nine light years away. At least one world is in the zone where water is a liquid.”
“The Goldilocks zone?” Jen had read the term in some of her favorite science and science fiction books.
“Exactly. Here’s additional evidence we could find life there . . .” He shifted the display to a spectroscopic graph, and pointed out a line indicating absorption of red and blue light, but not green. “That’s close enough to chlorophyll absorption to suggest plant life. Here’s another chart. Those two peaks are carbon dioxide and methane, in an atmosphere of mostly oxygen and nitrogen.”
“Liquid water, breathable atmosphere, plant life, and methane . . . cow flatulence?”
The astronomer laughed, and Jen could see Shep behind him trying to keep a straight face. “Close enough. It’s a sign of respiration and digestion, so there’s likely life there. I’ve heard that they want to call the planet Cistercia, after the Trappist monks of the Cistercian Order.”
“Hmm, I like the sound of that. A world out there that just might hold life.” She turned to Shep. “The analysis, did your eye give you all of that, too?”
“Maybe if I was looking at the image directly. Off a screen? No. Although, Professor Johannsen, I have to say you have very good monitors. I did get a hint of chlorophyll absorption out of it.”
“Hmm, maybe you should look at some of the raw imagery sometime.”
“I’ll mention it to NASA. They’re going to have me analyzing lots of data from satellite sensors and space telescopes. They might be interested.”
Shep and Jen thanked the professor for the tour and headed back down the dormant volcano to Waikoloa. It had been a long, busy day and was after midnight when they finally got to the hotel. They didn’t need to leave in a hurry, but the clock was definitely ticking down to time for them to get back to the “real world,” as Jen had begun to think of it. She felt like she could spend forever in this beautiful, complex tropical paradise with Shep. Unfortunately, they both had jobs to get back to.
Until then, they had six more days, and she was determined that they would spend those days together.