Into the Manifold

Chapter Four: Zyz

"If you don't break the symmetries, you don't get us. You don't get a universe with creatures like us in it unless you break these symmetries...our existence says something very deep about the mystery of this place we call the universe, because the laws, the symmetric laws, they're beautiful. We write them as simple equations on one or two lines. But if those laws held exactly, we're not here."

Dr. James Gates, Theoretical physicist, University of Maryland

Zyz swept over the lighthouse grounds, her shoes squeaking, an air of urgency occupying every space she entered. Her hand frequented the back of her neck, easing the tension of her muscles as she packed what things she could think of taking. She was overcome with an unusual fear that her life had always been attached to an invisible flywheel, whose momentum carried her toward some inevitable, unexpected task. She could have rejected the plea for help, of course, and remained in solitude on that craggy edge of coastline that she and the lighthouse occupied. But she hadn't. And so the flywheel kept turning. 

She was only bringing a backpack. Something about the constraint of its volume made her feel that her life was measured by the items she chose to fill it with—her old work badge, copies of her early dissertation work, a bundled mass of research papers, spare clothes, and a small gifted pendent she'd found buried beneath socks in a drawer.

Every time she passed a window she was aware of the moon, a peculiar blackness that hung in the sky. Jupiter Enterprises had blacked out the surface with their sprawling off-world headquarters. It sometimes occurred to her that she'd never again see a white crescent hanging above the horizon, replaced instead with a darkness that was sometimes difficult to spot even on bright days. In the years after Zyz had left the company, it bothered her to look up and see it. Try as she might to leave her past behind her, Jupiter Enterprises had achieved something of celestial grandeur that was impossible to ignore. 

Despite her best efforts at distracting herself with the menial work of packing, there was a feeling, like that of sickness, when imagining entering the corporate halls again. Their transformation of the lunar surface was a contemptuous display of power, one that made clear that they had indeed escaped the reach of terrestrial governments. It was this that drew so many people to partake in what they offered—the fortitude, if not arrogance, with which they maneuvered conveyed to the world that a new frontier had been opened. 

Zyz swung the backpack over her shoulders and looked around the foyer of the lighthouse. She wasn't sure how long she would be gone, but any absence was all but a guarantee that bits of the lighthouse would succumb to the weather. Nature had a way of creeping in when places were left unattended. The salted breeze of the Pacific corroded, the rain weathered away stone, and critters would make their home in each and every corner. 

She went to the storage shack, a small structure daring the edge of the cliffside, and pulled a protective tarp that had been tossed over the floor. Tucked between a splintered broom and a rusted bicycle she had never used, was an old bot. She pressed the button on the center of its head. Moments later, its eyes lit up with a vivid electric-blue. It shook and whirred, coming to life. 

"Bob-bot at your service," it said, reciting the name Zyz had given to it ages ago.

"Welcome back Bob-bot," she said, rubbing the dust from its body. 

"Would you like me to check for the latest firmware updates?" 

"There are no more firmware updates, you're perfectly fine as you are."

"I understand." 

Bob-bot shook its frame a bit, like a dog ridding its mane of water, bits of dust and rock falling from gaps in its various components. He had been built for simple affairs—vacuuming the floors, answering the front door, tidying up living spaces. But the lighthouse grounds required a different kind of care. The compound itself was in constant need of restoration simply to stave off the worst effects of the battering of salt and fog. The terrain was rocky, slippery, and uneven, and poor Bob-bot hadn't the necessary limbs to successfully navigate. Zyz had originally stashed him away in the storage shed to protect him from the elements, promising to one day retrofit him with the tools that might enable him to more freely make his way about the coastline. 

"I'm going to be gone for a while," Zyz said, inspecting his frame for any loose bolts, "And I don't want you wandering about outside, OK? I just need you to stay in the main house and see to it that things are maintained."

"I understand. Would you like me to set my boundaries to: LIGHTHOUSE, MAIN BUILDING?" 

"That's right. Just make sure the windows keep shut and give the space an occasional vacuum. If any storms come in there may be a few leaks here and there."

"Would you like to set an away message for any visitors?"

Zyz smiled, "There won't be any visitors. In the odd case that someone does turn up just tell them I'm out for a bit and will be back soon."

"I understand."

"I mean it," Zyz said, cradling his sensor array in her hands and turning the cameras toward her, as though staring into Bob-bot's eyes, "Don't go outside. If you get stuck and rain rolls through you're going to get some nasty corrosion. I won't be here to pull you inside."

"OK. What is the date of your return?"

"I'm not sure yet," Zyz said, standing up.

"I understand," it said, its actuators flexing as it continued to boot up, "I will miss you."

Zyz knew it wouldn't, and yet it still moved her to hear it. Though programmed only to mimic, she felt that the bot was imbued with the emotions of those that created it. 

"Don't fret, I'll be back before you know it."

"I'll hold down the fort then," it said, making its way out of the storage shed. 

Zyz spent the rest of the morning looking through her old things, trying to see if there was anything else she could think to take with her on the trip. Bob-bot had already begun his faithful task of straightening up the home—sweeping up grounds of coffee, removing cobwebs from corners, tightening up a few screws on one of the door hinges. There was an energy to the space that she hadn't felt for many years. 

Her tablet chimed. She picked it up off the desk. 

Arriving in five minutes, read the notification. Zyz tightened her backpack and walked over to Bob-bot. She crouched down and touched his frame again, her eyes tracing the chipped red paint. 

"I'll see you soon," she said. 

"Safe travels," he replied. 

Zyz left the lighthouse, feeling quick on her feet despite the weight of her backpack. A nervous anxiety coursed through her. She walked to the cliffside and stared out across the water. A thick wall of fog had rolled in, blanketing the mainland. She buried her chin in the collar of her jacket, hardening herself against the chill of the wind. 

Emerging from the fog with a low hum, the drone swept across the mouth of the bay with its large, raven-black wings. It was only in that moment that she realized how long it had been since she saw a passenger drone zooming across the sky. She forgot how creature-like it appeared, its slender frame and rotors articulating like wings. It decelerated above the lighthouse, the motors roaring overhead, kicking up dust as it settled down into a small patch of grass just before the bridge. 

A door hissed open. Zyz took a deep breath, fiddled with her backpack straps, and climbed up into the cabin of the drone. The inside was lit evenly with warm lighting, its seats a plush white with accents of silver. A small screen sat on the center of the wall opposite to her, displaying a map of the coastline. 

"Confirm your destination," the smooth voice of the autopilot requested. 

Zyz settled into her seat, the cushions cool from the air conditioning. Outside, the windswept grass shook violently beneath the rotors. Bob-bot stared out of first floor window at her. She wanted to cry. She cleared her throat.

"The Vandenberg Launch Complex."