Analog Science Fiction and Fact - June 2013

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ANALOG I love; I cannot love the one I touch. And at that moment the detector overheats, its cold ceramic casing shattering as the cesium gas within expands a millionfold. Pain tears through my systems as searing-cold gas pours into spaces it was never meant to touch. My heart bursts because it has taken in too much. Oblivion. Light stabs my eyes. I wince and squirm away from the pain, raising hands to defend myself, but something restrains me. “Whoa, whoa, malyutka!” It’s Evon’s voice, Evon’s hands on my wrists. “Don’t fight. Is only me. You okay?” “Uh . . .” My voice is ashy. “I’m alive . . .” “Here. Drink.” A cool glass is pressed into my hands. Water. I realize I’m parched. “Not so fast!” The glass is taken away. My thirst tells me I’ve been insensate and unserviced for some time. “How . . . how long?” “Sixteen hours.” He hands me another glass of water, and a food bar. It’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. “Was getting pretty cold before I managed to get door open. Lifesystem working now, anyway.” I shiver. It’s still pretty cold. “I’m sorry I locked you in.” “I’m sorry detector exploded. Next one will have better compensators. Big question is, can you fly ship?” The helmet’s indicators have all gone black, but the wall displays are operative. Drive systems are good; navigation is running on back- 38 VISIT OUR WEBSITE www.analogsf.com ups, but the coordinates of the last transition are still locked in. “Yes. I can get us back to the Institute, anyway.” Evon blows out a sigh. “Is good.” I turn the cold helmet over in my hands. The shipmind is dead. A new one can be grown from backups, of course, but it won’t be exactly the same. I won’t be exactly the same. What do I want me to be? I stare into the blind eye of the helmet’s dead power indicator. It stares blankly back . . . and suddenly I realize there’s a more immediate problem. “My data!” Evon quirks an eyebrow at me. “All the data I’ve gathered here. Is it safe?” He shrugs, spreads his hands. “I would never consider looking. Raw research data, after all. Subject to misinterpretation.” Though his words are light, his eyes are as hard and cold as one of his technical readouts. “You understand.” I gather breath to snap a response . . . then stop myself, letting it back out slowly. I begin again. “Will you . . . would you, please, check it for me? Make sure it’s properly stored and backed up before we fire up the system for the transition back to the Institute?” A small smile, and a nod. “Since you ask so nicely.” “Thank you.” There’s still a lot of noise crusted on my soul. It will take a while to scrape it all off. “Okay,” he says. “Where are manual controls?” Together, we set to work. ■ Don’t miss out on our lively forum, stimulating chats, controversial and informative articles, and classic stories. Log on today! DAVID D. LEVINE
Jeff Sanford and several colleagues had been sitting in the conference room when the news came. The door opened and Linda Wilson stuck her head in. “Hey, guys.” she said, “the Crab Pulsar has gone missing.” Myra snickered. “Maybe we need to wipe the lens.” “We got an alert from the Navy,” said Linda, referring to the U.S. Naval Observatory, also located in Flagstaff. “They can’t find it. Neither can I.” Jeff checked his watch. His son Brian was a sophomore at Northern Arizona. “He promised a surprise this evening,” he said, getting up, “but removing the Crab Pulsar’s a bit much.” It was well past visiting hours and the Lowell Observatory was quiet. One of the interns looked up from the Clark scope. “It’s still not visible,” she said, backing away as they approached. “The pulsar’s not there. I can see the nebula, but nothing’s happening.” The Crab Pulsar was seven thousand lightyears away, in the constellation Taurus. It rotated thirty times a second, providing a flashing light that was impossible to miss. Jeff checked the control console. “Radio waves and x-rays are normal,” he said. “Must be a dust cloud.” Myra frowned. “A dust cloud couldn’t block that thing off overnight.” Glitch Jack McDevitt Linda was listening to her cell phone. She nodded. Told them to wait. “Mauna Kea says visibility was normal three hours ago.” “Not possible,” said Myra. Live and learn, thought Jeff. It was obviously possible. He checked his watch. There’d be an explanation in the morning, and Brian was waiting for him. The surprise, he suspected, would be a young woman. And probably talk of an impending marriage. Kids, like pulsars, tended to spring surprises. But it was only an electronic gadget. A game station of some kind, he guessed. “It’s a Y-Box,” said Brian. He was taller than his father, big, with wide shoulders and an easy-going personality that sometimes seemed too casual. Though when his mother ran off with a supermarket clerk three years ago, he’d blamed Jeff. “What’s a Y-Box?” “Come on, Dad. They’ve been advertising them for two months.” Jeff shrugged. “So what is it?” “It creates artificial realities.” Jeff smiled. “Okay.” “Dad, you need to stop trying to hang onto the twentieth century.” “If you say so, Brian.” “Good. Just give this a chance. You’ll like it.” He produced a pair of helmets and held one out for his father. “Have a seat and put 39
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Page 9 and 10: enough that her blonde hair stuck t
Page 11 and 12: to other projects. “If Antoniy di
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Page 15 and 16: ment. Station retellings of the Sha
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Page 19 and 20: drink. Apparently it’s a health d
Page 21 and 22: four miles . . . assuming bridges w
Page 23 and 24: have had some history of seismicity
Page 25 and 26: la, and a host of other cities are
Page 27 and 28: Ray Bradbury’s classic short stor
Page 29 and 30: used his thumb to slide a bean up t
Page 31 and 32: The walkway glowed in front of them
Page 33 and 34: Wavefronts of History and Memory Th
Page 35 and 36: sleep in the command couch. The shi
Page 37 and 38: een broken by an ill-timed surprise
Page 39: skull. My pulse catches in my throa
Page 43 and 44: one we just saw was perfect.” Bri
Page 45 and 46: loved it when I read it the first t
Page 47 and 48: Hydroponics 101 Farmer slept in the
Page 49 and 50: of course, if you look deeper in th
Page 51 and 52: much clearer entreaty, he rubbed he
Page 53 and 54: precarious one—each shining bead
Page 55 and 56: term payload for things you dropped
Page 57 and 58: has flown seven times, and we insta
Page 59 and 60: ters, which will have to be cleaned
Page 61 and 62: my months of training had given me
Page 63 and 64: “Tell me anyway.” Pana understo
Page 65 and 66: the local database had been synced
Page 67 and 68: Asking no questions, she stepped as
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Page 71 and 72: isn’t subtle.There are six crew a
Page 73 and 74: “Let’s get some breakfast,” h
Page 75 and 76: seat, Rikki called, “I’m ready
Page 77 and 78: from the kitchen pushing a serving
Page 79 and 80: Continuous measurements covered onl
Page 81 and 82: meet rugged cliffs. The river, gray
Page 83 and 84: other, if unofficial, reason he was
Page 85 and 86: forecasting. That will help our cro
Page 87 and 88: architectural rendering. “You see
Page 89 and 90: “Off young women, anyway. That do
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That basic neural hardwiring would
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