SUNGLASESS AND ROCKETS Part 2: The Machine

CONTINGENCY PLAN

That sounded like the end of the world.

"Is the moon going out of orbit?" I snapped.

The doctor had placed his hand on his chin, pensively.

"That's the worse scenario," he whispered and obviated any other explanation. "We need to take measures at once..." He turned to the programmer. "What's the network's energy saturation level?"

The programmer typed again. "Theoretically, it should be about 320 megatons....yes," he confirmed and looked at a square on the screen. "320 megatons."

That was equal to a simultaneous explosion of several nuclear bombs!

The doctor nodded.

"Please, do not leave your seat for the next 135 minutes."

The heavy programmer turned around quickly.

"Do you have any more M & M's?"

The doctor took out a couple more bags and gave them to him. Phil gorged them up in a flash.

"Good luck," he gobbled.

The doctor hastened to the hatches. Darwin and I, as usual, followed behind. And as usual, our boss shifted paths without warning.

He stopped at the first row of computers.

"I need you to be aware of everything," he reminded. "Any questions?"

"Who's going to decipher the signals of Phil's model?" Darwin asked cleverly.

"They are," the doctor said, pointing to the technicians. "Anything else?"

I hesitated. I didn't quite understand the whole thing in order to formulate a more or less intelligent question. As for Darwin, he didn't add anything. The doctor wouldn't have waited more then one second for the answer anyway.

"Okay," he said and turned to the two technicians. "A global demassification threatens the moon."

The disturbing announcement was enough to capture the attention of the technicians. They turned instantly and got up expectantly. The doctor took a breath. Darwin and I moved shyly to the circle which just had formed and the emergency meeting initiated with words from the new leader of the base, doctor Masterton:

"40 degrees to the south and 170 degrees to the east, we'll call it enclave LHC, there is something similar to a SVM, although a 100 thousand times stronger..."

The issue was set clear for the two scientists in a matter of seconds; they just posed a couple of questions before doctor Masterton, satisfied, approved it quickly. Then, he pulled a piece of paper and taking a pen from the panel he drew a circle divided in meridians, it was a sketch of the moon, no doubt about it. At the same time his two shrewd colleagues started to make comments.

And suddenly, they got into a hurried technical discussion; if they stopped, it was briefly, and then continued on.

Those superior minds interchanged like the gears of a well lubricated machine.

Darwin and I were listening very attentively. And we didn't get anything.

It wasn't until the conclusion of the brief meeting, on our quick way to the space port—through a short cut that resembled a submarine corridor—, when the doctor took a couple of minutes to explain to his two lost assistants the reason for the session. In a nutshell: the doctor, aided by the two technicians, who we recently found out were scientists at Space Corp., made up a contingency plan for the worst of the scenarios: the loss of the moon's orbit. Bats would be placed at key points to guide it.

"The position, potency and torque of the thrusters and the changes of mass in the moon, are only some of the thousands of variables that you should take into account for the calculations," the doctor concluded. "The plan is extremely complex..."

At the end of the narrow hall, a gigantic hangar appeared. The doctor, at the head of the race, slowed down. "The execution will be even more complicated."

Only a genius of Moses Masterton's caliber, could be able to come up with a plan of such magnitude in just a couple of minutes and carry it out successfully.

Now he walked absorbed in his thoughts.

He was probably taking a few seconds to mentally put the finishing touches to every detail of such a titanic operation.

Finally, he stopped a short distance from the hall's doorstep and put his hand on his head.

"The plan is infested with mistakes," he announced.

He speeded up again.

"There's no time to correct them..."