So, I have an incomplete robot with broken controls, one infatuated pilot and one injured. I’m not sure where that leaves us. The helmets are a major setback. I don’t know when, or if, we’ll be able to fix them. Even if we manage to get them working again, there’s no guarantee we can wear these things without ending up in the hospital. They weren’t meant for us, after all.
Which brings me to the leg controls. Ryan’s really got a bad deal on this one. His helmet doesn’t work and his legs bend the wrong way. I wish I could find a way to modify the leg controls to fit our anatomy, but there’s too great a chance of permanently damaging the controls if we start tinkering with them. I can’t reproduce the metal that was used if we break something on that station. I’ll try just about anything before I let anyone approach it with a blowtorch.
Ryan has it in his head that he can work the legs facing the other way, with his back to the console. He’ll have to walk backward all the time. I think it’s insane but I have nothing better to offer so I’m inclined to let him try. Walking is a lot more complicated than people think. We do it unconsciously, but it’s a lot more difficult if you have to think it through. Make a comment to someone about the way they walk and see how awkward they become. It’s complex, and hard to decompose.
They won’t be able to keep the robot balanced if Ryan doesn’t get the movements perfectly right. It’s a tall and narrow structure, and the center of gravity is going to be really high. It’s scary enough as it is, and I can’t imagine how bad a fall would be once we get the legs on. It would probably flatten a city block or two.
I brought in some engineers to create a computer simulation. It will connect to the leg controls and to the other station and convert the pilot’s movement into a computer model of the robot. We’ll be able to see the results on computer screens. It takes weight, speed, and several other factors into account. It should at least give us an idea of whether or not what we’re trying to do is possible.
So, if we get the helmets working without killing ourselves, if Ryan can control kilotons of metal while walking backward, we’ll be left with the console. Ryan will be facing away from it, so someone else will need to handle that.
Right now it doesn’t work, of course. Vincent seems no closer to interpreting the symbols that are on it than he was when he first came in, and we have absolutely no idea what it does. This might be unprofessional of me, but I say we can cross that bridge when we get to it. We don’t know how complex it will be to operate. We might need a physicist, or a soldier, or maybe someone who’s really good at video games.
I know we’re supposed to make these journal entries to help us cope with stress. Hell, I’m the one who suggested it. But I have to say, right now, it’s not helping. Do I think we’ll eventually solve all these problems and make this thing work? I…I think getting to the moon probably felt like an impossible thing to do at first. Who am I kidding? Right now, I don’t think we have a chance on Earth.
I might feel differently in the morning. Either way, I’ll get up and go back to work. There are simply too many breakthroughs waiting for us if we can understand how this machine works. We already know it can perform medical wonders. Who knows what else it can do?
That also scares me. Am I ready to accept all that may come out of this if it works? It might give us a cure for everything. It might also have the power to kill millions. Do I want that on my conscience? I wish I knew where this journey will take us, but I don’t. All I know is that this is bigger than me, my self-doubt, or any crisis of conscience. I now truly realize how profoundly insignificant I am compared to all this. Why does that make me feel so much better?
FILE NO. 042
EXPERIMENT LOG—CW3 KARA RESNIK, UNITED STATES ARMY
Location: Underground Complex, Denver, CO
This is Kara Resnik. Today is September 22. It’s three in the morning, so no one is monitoring me. I’m probably gonna get in trouble for this, but what else is new? Dr. Franklin came to see me at the hospital today—well, yesterday now. It’s obvious she feels responsible for what happened to me. I tried to make her understand this wasn’t on her. I mean, it’s not like I wouldn’t have tried that thing on my own if she’d waited another day. She seemed devastated. Apparently, the whole project is on hold until they see if I suffer from any aftereffects. We’ll see about that.
She also told me I broke the helmet. I mean, really? I didn’t do anything! I just put it on my head, because…it’s a helmet? That’s what you’re supposed to do. I don’t buy that it’s broken either. I had an MRI today, I don’t have the results yet, but I’m pretty sure that alien device didn’t scramble my brain, so I don’t see how my brain could have broken it. OK, it’s not the best reasoning ever, but it repaired my eye, for God’s sake! Doctors couldn’t do that, and that thing did! I’m sorry, but I don’t think a machine that can do eye surgery after being buried underground for three thousand years is gonna break on account of my little head.
I’m not as smart as everyone else, but I think the pain was so intense because it repaired my eye. That, or it figured out that my brain isn’t what it’s supposed to be, and it adapted somehow. Either way, if it’s smart enough to fix me, I’m pretty sure it’ll find a way not to kill me. I have a gut feeling it may have—what’s the word—imprinted, when it adapted to my brain, like a baby duck. If I’m right, it thinks I’m its mommy now. I think that’s why it won’t turn on for anyone else anymore.
I know that wouldn’t explain why the other helmet doesn’t work, but like Dr. Franklin always says: one thing at a time. You can’t solve every problem at once. You see, Dr. Franklin: I was listening. Now I’m trying to solve one problem. I know what you’re gonna say: I haven’t even been discharged from the hospital yet. You and the doctors told me to stay put and get some rest. Well, I can’t rest if everything’s stopped because of me; and I don’t want to worry about that helmet knocking me out every time I put it on. This is me finding some peace of mind, so don’t get too mad when you find out what I’ve done. Unless I die in the next ten minutes. Then you can get mad all you want.
Also, don’t get mad at the hospital staff either. They probably thought I was going to the cafeteria, considering I told them I was going to the cafeteria.
I’m at the top of the stairs now. I think next time, if there’s a next time, I’ll bring two barstools with me, just for the satisfaction of throwing one down as hard as I can. I hate these things now. From now on, I’ll stand when I go to a bar.
You know what I’m doing, so I’m sparing you the play-by-play. Crouching, crouching. Opening the inner hatch…
I’m inside the sphere, going to brace myself in. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous. This seemed like a much better idea an hour ago. Then again, I get sweaty palms when I wanna ask a guy out, so, par for the course.
I have the helmet in my hands. I’ll put it on now, before I chicken out. Be nice, little fellow, Mommy’s here…
AAAAAAAHHHHHRRRRR!
Son of a…Helmet’s off! Come on! What is it with this thing?! It burned like hell. I couldn’t even keep my eyes open. Mommy’s pissed! Obviously, it wasn’t as bad as the last time if I’m still talking, but that thing really hates…
I…
I’ll be damned. I can’t feel much with these gloves on, but I think the cut on my forehead is gone. I can tell you the stitches are gone for sure.
OK, I must be crazy, because I’m putting it on again. I don’t see what else it could fix, except maybe some self-esteem issues. I wanna see what it does when it’s not healing things.
…