My nerves were getting the better of me again. I paced aimlessly in my study, with only thirty minutes left until my latest work would be unveiled to the world. Though my preceding project with Lindsay Cybernetics had been a tremendous success, I couldn’t help but feel that the bar had been set too high.
On my desk, next to my favorite photo of my daughter, sat a half-cup of rock and rye. A handful of my newly purchased Camel Blues lay in a novelty ashtray, smoldering. The fumes emitted from the cheap cigarettes had a therapeutic effect on me, as I had enjoyed them since the age of eleven.
My heart fluttered, and my hands shook as I lit another cigarette. It had been nearly two years since the launch of my previous project. In ‘67, I partnered with a young engineer and prosthetist named Lawrence Lindsay, who headed a family-owned prosthetics company called Lindsay Limbs Incorporated.
Together, we developed the Lindsay Cybernetics Model 1, a fully mechanized prosthetic leg designed to be manipulated via brain implant. The R-K8 chip restored a sense of normalcy to thousands of American war veterans and amputees. It was so popular that its inclusion was to be prioritized in every model going forward, and Lindsay Limbs Incorporated rebranded to Lindsay Cybernetics.
Since LCM1’s launch, Larry and I had anticipated our next foray with great uncertainty. For it to be considered a success, it must prove equal to, if not more effective than model one. After discovering improved functionality with lighter metals, Larry had made up his mind. The LCM2 was to be our attempt at creating a fully functional prosthetic arm.
From its testing phase with the company’s test chimp, to human trials, LCM2 showed great promise. The finished model offered full finger dexterity, a hand that rotated 360 degrees at the wrist, a variation of modes meant to simulate power and precision grip.
On paper, Model 2 seemed to dwarf its predecessor, but I understood that catching lightning in a bottle was no simple game.
What if RK-8’s magic had faded?
A sharp, warm pain in my chest jolted me out of thought. My cigarette fell to the carpet below. Pain shot down my left arm, soon to encompass my whole body. Vertigo washed over me as I made an attempt at the rotary phone, but I only tumbled to the floor in agony. Through blurry vision, I watched as fire danced across the carpet.
I awoke in a dark room, one that wasn’t my own. The smell of bleach filled my nostrils, and a series of beeps chirped from various locations. I was alone, but through a door left ajar, I could hear a passing conversation.
“I’ve got to tell you, your work is absolutely incredible. I mean it when I say that you’ve outdone yourself ten fold,” said an unfamiliar voice.
“I just designed the limbs. Simon is entirely responsible for the success of RK-8. He’s a goddamn workhorse,” someone else responded.
I recognized is voice. “Larry? “ I asked through an uncharacteristically raspy voice. I broke into a coughing fit, dislodging thick, black mucus from my lungs.
He laughed. “Tough as nails too. You hear that?” The footsteps drew closer to me, and I continued to retch.
Someone flipped a light switch, and I saw that I was in a hospital room. “It’s alive!” said Lindsay, accompanied by a short, middle-aged man in white scrubs.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Bergman. I’m Dr. Eyenson,” said the other man, extending his hand to me.
“You suffered a heart attack around 3:00 PM this afternoon. Your neighbors called the fire department after noticing smoke billowing from your windows. They say the fire might’ve been sparked by a loose cigarette.”
He lowered his head before shifting his attention to a nearby stack of papers. “Smoking kills, Doctor. “
”You’re getting old on me,” said Lindsay. “On today of all days!”
My heart sank. I had completely forgotten the great significance of that day. The vital sign monitor stationed to my left chirped in rapid succession as my heart fluttered once more.
“What do they think?” I asked.
Lindsay was silent. He stood with his arms crossed, beaming.
I smiled for the first time in a while and asked the question that I had lost much sleep over. “Have we topped model one?”
Lindsay remained silent, and his smile grew wider. I laughed joyously. “On today of all days…” I agreed.
“They say thirty million people tuned in to see the demonstration on ABC alone, Doctor. Thirty. Fucking. Million,” said Lindsay. “We’ve been getting calls all day.”
“Investors?” I asked.
“Potential customers, skeptics, angry Catholics, AND Investors, Doctor,” confirmed Lindsay.
“Wonderful,” I said. My head was pounding. I had been unconscious for hours, and whatever drugs they’d pumped into me were making me nauseous.
“Actually,” Added Lindsay, “We did get a particularly interesting call today.”
“Is the Pope after us yet?” I asked with feigned excitement.
“Not exactly,” said Lindsay. “It was the Cosmic Wake. They’d like to have a meeting with us.”
I couldn’t believe my ears.
The Cosmic Wake was founded in 1965 as a government-based organization to support the U.S. in the space race. Unlike NASA, it focused on planetary defense rather than space exploration to showcase the country’s capabilities.
”What the hell do they want with us?” I marveled.
Lindsay laughed. “You know, I’m not so sure. They’d like to see us in person,” he said, retrieving a small notebook from his pocket and flipping through it. “They told me we need to go to…aha! Fort Loramie Airfield in Dayton. They insist upon February seventh.”
For the entirety of my stay at the hospital, that date sat at the front of my mind. “Why us?” I would wonder. “What do we have to offer them?” It simply did not resonate with me. I couldn’t shake off the feeling that there was something more to this meeting than what Lindsay had let on.
The success of RK-8 had certainly put us in the spotlight, but it was still hard to believe that an organization as powerful as the Cosmic Wake would take an interest in our work. Maybe it was all a misunderstanding, or perhaps they had heard about some of the controversies surrounding RK-8’s development and wanted to investigate further?
Months later, after enduring a barrage of non-disclosure agreements and other miscellaneous paperwork, I sat in a bleak, gray room with Lindsay, awaiting our meeting with Cosmic Wake administration. Fort Loramie appeared desolate from the outside, although it was sufficiently guarded. The airbase became somewhat of a military storage unit in 1953. As I bounced my leg in anticipation, the ugly maroon carpet stuck to my shoes, and I studied an old, battered poster hanging nearby that read:
“Ready for anything - thanks to you!”
A young woman crept around the corner, smiling warmly. “Hello! Welcome to Fort Loramie,” she said. “Mr. Samedi will see you now!” The two of us arose and followed her through the maze-like corridors of the base.
The woman expressed admiration for our work, explaining that her brother had recently undergone RK8 implant surgery. A landmine had taken his leg just above the knee whilst fighting in Vietnam. The LCM1 model had restored his ability to walk. I smiled to myself; moments like that were what I lived for. I looked to my left to find Lindsay grinning back at me.
We approached a thick, steel door that read “ADMINISTRATION”. “Here we are!” the woman said, opening the door for us. “I’ll be here to help you find your way out!”
Across from us now, behind a large desk, sat a bearded, middle-aged man. “Good morning,” he said, extending his hand to me. “I’m Fred Samedi, Cosmic Wake Administration. It’s great to finally meet you both.”
To my amusement, Samedi’s thick-lensed glasses nearly doubled the size that his eyes appeared to be. They reminded me of an owl. I smiled wider than I should’ve. “I’ve been looking forward to this, Mr. Samedi. I’m Simon Bergman.”
Samedi’s face changed. “RK-8 is your doing?”
“That’s right,” I confirmed, “but I’d have nothing to show for it without my partner here.”
Larry shook hands with Samedi. “I’m Lawrence Lindsay. I’m excited to be here.”
“And you design the products themselves, Mr. Lindsay?” asked Samedi.
“That’s me,” Lindsay answered.
“Fascinating. Shall we?” asked Samedi, gesturing to his desk. The three of us found our seats.
“I’m sure that both of you are very curious,” he began. “The efficiency of your products is… astonishing. The truth is, we’ve made a few discoveries of our own. Discoveries that could change the way we think of space travel forever.”
Samedi peeked over Lindsay’s shoulder, ensuring that the door was closed. He continued, this time more quietly. “Nobody; not even the military, knows of the current state of our technology, not yet. Before they make it their own, we’ve got a chance to create something truly spectacular.”
I smiled. “Go on,”
“As I’m sure you know, we focus primarily on matters regarding planetary defense. Each and every mission up to this point has been carried out unmanned. Very little progress has been made on our end. However, decreased funding has forced us to open our eyes to alternate methods of protection. Seeing your products in action gave us hope in revisiting a certain ambitious project of ours.”
Samedi placed a thick stack of notes before the two of us.
“ One of our rocket technicians, Mr. Edmund Dietrich, has recently developed an engine prototype that can toggle between liquid-fuel propulsion and nuclear propulsion at the flip of a switch. Nuclear propulsion allows for the astronaut to slowly and safely bypass the Earth’s atmosphere without the need of a heat shield. Once free of the atmosphere, liquid fuel propulsion will carry the astronaut into orbit. We think we can accomplish all of this without so much as a standard rocket.”
Samedi hunched over his desk and began flipping through the notebook.
“Mr. Lindsay, Dr. Bergman, I called you here today to ask for your assistance in developing a very … unorthodox spacesuit.”
Upon finding what he was looking for, he pushed the collection of notes towards us.
The vessel shown on paper stood at seven feet tall. An approximation of its total weight upon completion came to nearly fifteen hundred pounds. A dual propulsion system was built into either leg. Its right arm consisted of a large hook. It’s left came equipped with long, sharp, serrated fingers as well as a harpoon-like device mounted just below the wrist.
“I should clarify, we’re simply asking for your assistance on an exoskeleton compatible with RK-8. Everything that classifies the vessel as a spacesuit will be handled entirely by the Cosmic Wake,” said Samedi.
“What the hell are you planning to accomplish with this?” I asked, still not entirely sure what was going on.
“You’ve still told us nothing of the mission at hand!”
Samedi grinned.
“Are you aware of Madison’s Comet, Doctor?” he asked.
I pondered for a moment. I knew I was out of my depth, but I didn’t want to admit it.
“No. I.. don’t think so,” I said.
“Madison is a periodic-comet with an orbital period of eighty years. We’ve been tracking it with a satellite telescope for months now. It’s unusually slow and relatively small in the spectrum of celestial bodies. We estimate it to be about one hundred and thirty meters in diameter, moving around one thousand miles per hour. As it draws closer, it’ll be visible to the naked eye for nearly three months,” explained Samedi.
“And you want to blow it up with a spacesuit? A comet the size of a skyscraper?” asked Lindsay.
“Like I said, Mr. Lindsay, we’ve been sitting on this project for many years. The goal is to knock Madison off course, not to destroy it. Even a hint of a disturbance in its trajectory would be amazing! In our estimation, we’ve got the firepower to influence a comet twice its size, but an opportunity like this comes once in a lifetime. We’ve got only two and a half years.”
Lindsay seemed amused.
“And… What does an odd job like this pay, Mr. Samedi?” he asked.
“Our time is rather valuable nowadays.”
Samedi nodded.
“I know that. We see great promise in the both of you. That’s why we’re prepared to offer each of you a yearly salary of fifty thousand dollars.”
Neither of us spoke.
I tilted my head. That would be enough money for me to live off of for the rest of my life.
“Haha! I’ve got your attention I see. That’s right. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars for two and a half years of your time. It would be foolish not to consider,” Samedi said with a smile.
“Not to mention unpatriotic.”
We remained silent.
Lindsay only stared ahead for a moment before returning his focus to Samedi’s notes.
“Who the hell would throw that kind of money at such a ridiculous project?” I thought to myself.
Seemingly discouraged by our silence, Samedi rose from his seat and walked across the room. He opened the door.
“I suppose I’ll leave the two of you to talk it over, then,” he said.
“You expect us to make a decision in five minutes? Deals like this take months to finalize!” Lindsay asked.
“Ideally. But we don’t have months. We’ve barely got today. I would love for you to be a part of this operation, but I assure you that this project will be pursued with or without your assistance. Time is of the essence, Mr. Lindsay.”
Without another word, he slipped away. The heavy door gilded gently before slamming to a halt, and the two of us sat alone once more.
“What a fucking lunatic,” said Lindsay.
“This feels like a goddamn fever dream.” he said
“What are you thinking?” I asked Lindsay.
“I’m thinking of the most polite way to tell this guy to kiss my proverbial ass, Doctor,” Lindsay replied.
“Larry, don’t dismiss this just yet. We arrived at the understanding that this would be a challenge.”
“I can’t build a fucking spacesuit, Doctor. RK-8 is barely powerful enough to operate model two, and it weighs four pounds!” He pushed Samedi’s notes towards me.
“Did you even look at this thing? It weighs nearly a ton! We simply are not prepared for this.”
“Don’t say that, Larry. There’s no telling what RK-8 could achieve given the proper research,” I argued.
“Three years is far too long to dedicate to the work of others. This is only going to distract me from building my brand, Doctor. OUR fucking brand.”
I grew irritated. “This is going to provide us the opportunity to better our products and fund our brand, Larry!” I snapped. “Don’t you see that this is a massive opportunity for us? They’re offering each of us fifty thousand dollars per year. Think long term for one second, please!”
Lindsay lowered his head and spoke so quietly that I could barely understand him. “This is so far out of the realm of what we do, and you know it.”
“They came to us for a reason, Larry. We underestimate ourselves and it only serves to hold us back. Think of the possibilities. Think of the money, the research, the promotion!” I said.
“We’ve helped a lot of people, and we will continue to do just that. But this project goes far beyond aiding humankind. We’re working with technology that could potentially prevent a global extinction. If this project is a success, we’d be amongst the most significant beings ever to live.”
Lindsay began to relax in his chair, and the angry look he’d been sporting slowly fell from his face. I could sense that I was making progress.
I saw it as an opportunity to continue, “You and I are one in the same, we fear failure. I promise, you don’t want to live like that. It nearly killed me. Ever since my heart attack, I’ve viewed our accomplishments through a lens that I’m afraid you cannot yet see. For the first time in my life, I feel confident in my abilities. I’m not a one-off, I never was. And neither are you.”
“Humans exist to push boundaries, but Larry, you and I are different. We exist to accomplish goals once thought impossible. We’ve shocked the world twice, this time its for all the marbles.”
Lindsay remained silent for a while, making not a move, seemingly transfixed by the floor. Then, quietly, he began to laugh. He refocused his gaze on me and said,
“…Fifty thousand a year, huh?”
The very next week, production began on a prototype for the vessel. Lindsay, though hesitant to indulge, flourished in his new work environment. The workstation provided by The Cosmic Wake was spacious. Unlike the rest of Fort Loramie, it underwent frequent renovations and was always up to the current standard. With it, Samedi provided an array of tools, materials and specialists who could answer Lindsays every question.
In that same workstation, he made the acquaintance of the men he’d be closely working with.
Dennis Gorman, specializing in Mathematics and Physics.
Waldemar Schreiber, who was responsible for incorporating liquid-fueled propulsion and guidance systems into the vessel.
Warren Scott, who would incorporate final aerodynamic adjustments.
And perhaps most notably, he met Edmund Deitrich. The rocket technician who had developed the original nuclear engine prototype.
To ensure the vessel’s prototype met safety requirements, Quality Control’s Richard Schupe was assigned to monitor the assembly process every step of the way. Throughout the eight hour workday, Schupe would remain glued to Lindsay’s side, rapidly scrawling into his clipboard.
Feeding off of one another’s strengths, Lindsay and his team progressed rapidly through the vessel’s production process. In just seventeen months, the prototype stood, completed. By removing unnecessary hardware from the equation, Lindsay managed to drop over four hundred pounds from its estimated weight.
The vessel’s titanium frame glimmered like medieval armor.
Like a third leg, its hooked arm grazed the floor, and seemed to support its stance.
Its face was reminiscent of an Ancient Greek sculpture; with a cold, stoic gaze.
We called it the Cosmic Godwit.
Predictably, incorporating RK-8 into the Godwit was no easy task for me.
Upon the prototype’s completion, Lindsay Cybernetics test chimp, Mable, was transported to Fort Loramie. After a series of malfunctions, it was determined that RK-8 would not be powerful enough to command the vessel, as it was unresponsive to her commands. With the arrival of Madison drawing near, production on an entirely new chip was imperative.
I quickly delved into the code of the RK-8 chip, with the goal of making the necessary adjustments to ensure that it would be compatible with the Cosmic Godwit. I worked tirelessly, examining lines of code, adjusting settings, and conducting various tests to gauge the chip’s reaction to different situations.
Over time, I made progress in improving RK-8’s performance, but it was not yet flawless. I recognized that I required additional time and resources to fine-tune the chip, yet the clock was ticking as Madison’s arrival approached. Despite my concerns, it was determined that the mission should proceed, with the agreement that the chip would be continuously refined and upgraded as necessary.
Eventually, I achieved a significant breakthrough. I conceived a plan for a more substantial chip that could manage the tremendous energy necessary to run the Godwit. The novel chip, RK-9, would be apparent from outside the skull, unlike its predecessor, RK-8. Although it was bulky, it was potent.
With optimism and anticipation, I proceeded to develop the RK-9 chip. The team labored diligently to construct the new chip, meticulously designing and testing each aspect and specification.
As time passed, we faced intense pressure and encountered numerous setbacks. However, we remained determined to create something truly groundbreaking and persevered for months on end.
Mable had already undergone RK-8 implant surgery, so it would be impossible to safely remove and attempt to replace it with RK-9. Because of this, Lindsay Cybernetics introduced Xerxes, a seven-year-old rescue chimp from Uganda. The chip underwent months of development before it was ready for testing. I anxiously observed as Xerxes was prepared for the implant surgery, but the procedure was successful, and Xerxes woke up a few hours after the operation with the new chip implanted in his brain.
Initially, the tests showed some progress but we soon realized that the chip was not responding effectively to Xerxes’ commands. We had to make several adjustments to the code, making some tweaks here and there until we finally achieved the desired response from the chip.
During the following weeks, Xerxes received thorough training and underwent rigorous testing to ensure that the chip was operating correctly.
Incorporating a Machine Learning Algorithm to RK-9 was suggested by members of my team, and while it seemed like a daunting task, it also had the potential to revolutionize space travel and improve the pilot-vessel interaction. Although ethical and safety issues were a concern, I put my trust in The Cosmic Wake team to develop the algorithm. After several weeks of coding, testing, and tweaking, we successfully uploaded the algorithm into Xerxes’ RK-9 chip.
The incorporation of this technology was a gamechanger.
We created a set of mazes for Xerxes to navigate. He only managed to complete one out of the five provided. It took him twenty five minutes. However, we applied the new software and uploaded a birds-eye view of each maze along with the correct highlighted path onto the chip.
After Xerxes woke up, he appeared to have undergone a change. He was full of excitement and energy, but there was no obvious explanation for this transformation. He did not display any aggressive behavior or show any signs of hunger.
We brought Xerxes back to the mazes and were amazed when he immediately sprinted through each one flawlessly, without making a single wrong turn. His average time was just eleven seconds, a remarkable improvement. It appears that the new software had a significant impact on his ability to navigate the mazes. After completing the final maze, Xerxes sprinted to his handler and raised his hand above his head, eager for his reward; Ohio grown strawberries.
To further test the chimp, we introduced him the concept of anthropomorphic movements. We created virtual representations of movements that corresponded with the Godwit’s machinery, focusing on specific limbs. Our goal was to determine if this approach would increase Xerxes’ awareness of his control over the vessel.
The following day, the staff at Cosmic Wake assisted in loading Xerxes into the Godwit. Using a glorified extension cord, we connected the vessel’s interior to the RK-9 chip. Xerxes remained calm and collected, as he knew treats would be waiting for him at the end of the test.
When the Godwit turned on, a low and ominous sound filled the room. Its previously lifeless face lit up with a greenish glow in its eyes. I felt my heart racing as the respirators kicked in, and a series of beeps sounded rapidly before finally stabilizing. The tension in the room was evident as Xerxes began to move. Initially, his movements were hesitant and uncertain, as if he was unsure of what to do. However, he quickly found his footing and began to move with a clear sense of purpose. The Godwit responded to his every move, and it was evident that he was in complete control.
Cheering erupted.
As Xerxes navigated the Godwit, I watched with amazement. He moved his arms with a fluidity that was almost human-like. It was incredible to see him interact with the Godwit in such a natural way, as if he had been doing it his entire life.
I became anxious as it was became clear that something more serious was happening. The Godwit began shaking violently. Warning lights on its control panels illuminated, and alarms started blaring.
And then it stopped.
Dead in its tracks, the Godwit stood.
As the alarms blared, I signaled the Cosmic Wake staff to check Xerxes’ vital signs. With concerned expressions, they rushed to their stations and checked their monitors for readings. My heart was racing.
One of the staff members shouted, “The ape is unconscious!”
I was concerned about the cause of the Godwit’s problem. Was it due to technical issues, or was Xerxes unable to handle the controls? Was this my fault? To prevent further issues with the machine, the Cosmic Wake team sent Xerxes’ handler and two soldiers into the testing area to retrieve him.
I watched through the thick glass as the handler, equipped with a suit and helmet, entered the testing space.
They quietly crept across the room. I held my breath as they approached the inert machine.
Suddenly, The Godwits head snapped to face the handler, Xerxes let out a muffled, primal scream that echoed through the testing facility.
The Godwits hooked arm jerked backwards quickly before being thrusted into the handlers abdominal region. I made eye contact with Lindsay, who’s jaw was practically on the floor. Everybody was screaming now.
The armed soldiers rushed forward, their guns firing in all directions. Sparks flew as bullets ricocheted off the Godwit’s metal exterior. But it was too late. The handler lay motionless on the ground, his eyes staring blankly ahead.
My mind reeled as I tried to process what was happening.
Lindsay ran to the testing room door.
“Shut off the generator! It can’t move without it!”
Suddenly, the Godwit began to move once more. Slowly, it put one leg in front of the other. The way that it looked when it walked made my stomach turn. Despite its design, it didn’t move like a human should. Its knee joints clicked as it began inching towards the soldiers. The ape screeched barbarically. It swung its hook in a crazed frenzy.
“The generator! Cut the fucking power, now!” Yelled Lindsay.
The soldiers turned their attention to the generator, firing their weapons precisely. The deafening sound of gunfire filled the room as sparks flew from the generator. After the final shots ceased, it looked unrecognizable. Its circuits were irreparably damaged. The Godwit let out a final mechanical whirr before slowing to a halt.
Smoke rose from the damaged machine.
The Godwits pressure locks disengaged and the ape fell to the floor next to its handler. The soldiers raised their weapons.
“No! Don’t! We’re not done with him!”
I turned to look behind me. Samedi was pounding on the table at which he sat.
“Lower your goddamn weapons, now!” He yelled.
The soldiers refused.
Slowly, the ape began to wake up. He looked like he was struggling to keep his eyes open. He clammered to his feet and studied his surroundings. I watched in horror as he crawled to one of the soldiers and raised his hand above his head, waiting.
Part 1/2