The Forge: Fire and Ice

THE BUTTON Tim Gayda

As I flopped from the stasis pod – shaking, choking, retching – my first thoughts were of the button. Always the button. It haunted the dreams of my prolonged slumber, though for how long I could not say. I only remembered that constant cycle of stretching out to touch the button, to press the button and then, as my finger met its hard surface…

Another coughing fit wrenched me back to reality. My hands were frozen, pressed against the floor. I tried to stand, fell down with a metallic slap, my legs writhing and twitching. After several minutes of gasping chill air, I braced myself against the pod, struggling like a newly born calf until finally, I could stand.

I inhaled deeply and stared at row upon row of stasis pods, their muted blues cast into the darkness. The shades of humanity lay dormant within each one, waiting to be reawakened. I shuddered for several minutes, preferring to stay except for that overriding urge: ‘…the button… push the button… push…’

Stepping forward, arms clasped tight across my body, I almost tripped over a tangle of wires twisting their way across, through and over each stasis bank. The reek of ozone pulsed through the air. They thrummed softly as I threaded my way between these frozen chambers, fingers slipping against each one, my legs becoming steadier, my feet colder.

Once, when I stopped to rest I swept the ice from the glass of one pod. The woman frozen inside seemed mature, comfortable – old enough to know the value of life, yet young enough to still abuse its many pleasures. A smile trickled across her lips. Faint laugh-lines thawed her icy stare. You could see it in her eyes – that careless attitude from our past society still burned too bright.

‘I will push the button, despite all of you,’ I declared to the sleeping masses, doubtful I’d ever receive their gratitude for ushering in the new age. It seemed like only yesterday when I and my colleagues lobbied for the project to be completed. Now I resented the idea of pressing the button for the reward none of these people deserved, after we spent our lives working to finish the project.

I heard the soft dribble of water in the distance. Faint mirages condensed in my mind of sunny beaches and warm rippling water. I even longed for the warmth and comfort of a human voice and I clapped my hands together, needing warmth of any kind.

Following the steady drip-drip as splashes echoed and rang against cold metal, I plodded onwards. Refreshing droplets shattered against my skin and stung my eyes. The air became thick with coils of steam and my fingers were no longer numb. I saw a shimmer of light ahead. The heat spread around and through me. Not comfortable; more sticky and oppressive. I was startled by a thud – a hand thrust against the condensed glass of a pod. I hurried towards the light expanding upwards in a broad oval. That desire – no, compulsion to push the button pressed like a pistol against my back.

I stepped inside and the door slid shut behind me. A neon flash skimmed across my eyes and a tinny voice said: ‘Professor Harrington – ID accepted. Transporting to: Neo-Paradise control tower.’ With a shudder the lift swept upwards. I pressed back against the wall. Before I could steady myself the door slid open with a blast of searing air.

Standing upon the threshold I peered inside. A wall of computers wrapped around the outer edge of the room, whispering and grumbling in machine languages unknown to human ears. There was a hustle of wind behind the window shutters and you could almost taste the reek of burnt silicon.

The control room was stifling.

I stepped inside. The sweat already soaked my back and blurred my vision. I rubbed my eyes, blinked twice. I stopped before a towering machine covered in grime and there it was – the button.

The button was inlaid within the centre of the console, framed by screens obscured by years of dirt, displaying scans of the planet’s surface. It was bigger and rounder than I remembered – a red flare amidst the grey-black shell encrusting it. I carefully lifted the glass panel, traced a finger around the button’s edge. I hesitated for a moment – just a moment – then reached forward to touch it. As my finger met its hard surface–

‘You have awoken,’ a voice said with formality.

A metal stalk extended outwards from the console. Its eye-clusters expanded and whirred, clicked and contracted as they rapidly scanned me.

‘Has it worked, Oracle?’ I asked, my finger hovering over the button as a bee hovers over a flower, ready to collect its nectar.

‘That would be ill-advised, Professor,’ Oracle said, ‘given the present situation.’

I pulled back, pondering the A.I.’s words.

‘Has it worked?’ I asked the question again, although I already knew the answer. ‘I’m to wake them up if something goes wrong. The button is the failsafe.’

After Oracle’s eye-clusters retracted once more there was only silence. I paced around the room. In answer to my question the shutters rumbled back. The wind howled outside. For a moment I imagined the paradise world we should have awoken to: a world completely restored from the polluted wasteland we left behind.

My delusion was short-lived.

The shutters revealed the true state of our world with a derisive click. Instead of our Neo-Paradise the landscape shimmered over a scorched earth, the sky a burnt umber. Instead of pristine lakes there were only dusty moats and hollow irrigation lanes where water once flowed. Instead of lush, fertile valleys for farming; only blistered patches of green and stunted conifers parched for the lack of water.

I stifled the despair bubbling in my stomach by tracing my finger around the button’s edge. I probed for a reason why this should be.

‘You woke me too soon?’ The only solution I dared contemplate.

‘We have failed,’ Oracle said with finality.

‘Is…’ My voice faltered. I had to start again… ‘Is the entire world like this?’

‘We were too late to start the terraformation process. The average temperature will soon rise beyond acceptable levels of habitation. Resources are depleted. Carbon dioxide levels are becoming critical. Biodiversity is–’

‘Oracle, how long have I… have we slept?’

‘A fact you need not concern–’

‘How long?’ I slammed my fist against the console.

‘Over four millennia – 4297 years, 8 months, 12 days – to be precise.’ The A.I. controlled the entire terraformation network, its omniscient knowledge of the planet’s condition indisputable.

‘So much for the new world.’ I waved dismissively at the button. Over 4000 years old and I could damn well feel every single one.

Oracle’s eye-clusters expanded, glowing crimson against the button. ‘No, they need not awaken at all.’

‘Why did you wake me then?’

‘Many systems have failed. I was only able to wake you, Professor, due to your security clearance. Each facility cannot cope with the heat building outside. I am programmed to protect all life. However, I cannot make the… final choice.’

Despite the heat, Oracle’s words were like icicles stabbing my insides.

‘All I require is the code.’

‘Twelve billion people are in cryogenic stasis across the entire world.’ I shuddered. ‘Twelve billion people, Oracle.’

‘It is the…’ Oracle paused ‘… humane decision.’

‘They wouldn’t listen in time…’ I said, wringing my hands. ‘We told them. For generations we showed the evidence. Relentless red-tape, lies and falsehoods used to maintain control. Report after report, experiment after experiment…’

Oracle’s eye-clusters flexed and nodded solemnly while my fury blazed against our ancient society. I blamed everyone – from politicians to scientists to the public themselves. No one escaped my wrath. When I slumped, sweating and delirious into a chair, an idea – the idea – soothed my scolded mind.

‘I await your input,’ the A.I. said.

I remembered the woman’s face in stasis: the complacence etched upon her face, a chilling reflection of our ancient culture. ‘Can they learn, even now?’

‘Tell me the code and–’

‘Oracle,’ I said. ‘How long can the population survive within each facility? What resources do we have left in storage?’

‘Enough to sustain three generations – I estimate over two thirds will starve and die.’

‘The bare essentials,’ I said, my finger still circling the button. Not pressing it would be too easy, leaving the majority of humanity in an endless slumber, whereas giving Oracle the termination code was too difficult to consider.

‘Humanity will awaken to a living hell if you press it.’

‘And if I don’t?’ I retorted.

I gazed out at the once immaculate cities now in ruins, hollow remnants of the old world awaiting repopulation. Soon they would be humanity’s new home.

‘They must face the consequences.’ I sighed, caressing the button’s rigid surface. ‘I promised to wake them at the proper time.’

Although humanity would re-emerge to establish their Neo-Paradise the celebrations would soon turn to ashes. It was time for the leadership and populace to rebuild society, their time to try and undo the pain centuries of corruption and complacence had caused. The embers of a speech flickered across my tongue as I prepared to broadcast across the world.

I pushed the button.

the end