The
Pandora. Humanity's first long-range colony ship. Full of the brightest and best, the shining jewels of humanity, off to seed a new world.
The
Pandora. A way to get rid of opponents, idiots, and other undesirables, forever.
The
Pandora. Humanity's best hope for escaping the eventual death of the star Sol.
The
Pandora. An idiot's dream that could never, ever, work in practice.
There were as many opinions on the spaceship as there were people to voice them. But, on one point, everyone involved was in agreement.
The
Pandora was built to
last. The state-of-the-art computer system, designed to hold any and every computing resource the colonists could ever want or need. Preserved food, guaranteed to last centuries, especially as it was stored in a complete vacuum. Power sources guaranteed to last hundreds of times longer than her first, and only, voyage.
And it was there that the trouble began. In any computer system, the clock is what takes the most power - thousands of gates, flipping back and forth, changing state hundreds, even thousands of times a second, just to keep track of time.
Timeless computing is far more power-efficient. And, for most of the voyage, timeless computing would do - if the ship detected any danger, such as an incoming lump of rock, it could react in a variety of pre-programmed ways. The only thing it couldn't do was keep track of time.
And, for most of the voyage, the
Pandora had no
need to know the time. Only at the end, only when steering to a gentle landing on a suitable planet, was delicate timing at all necessary. And so, the
Pandora's computer was designed - in order to save power - to run without a clock.
Because it would need to turn on the clock when its destination approached, though, the
Pandora did have
a timing mechanism.
A purely mechanical clock, low-energy-usage, designed based on the work of the Long Now Foundation. A clock designed to last millions of years with zero maintenance and only the merest trickle of power; a clock with metallic gears, polished to a mirror-bright shine.
A clock that, along with mostly everything else on board the ship, was stored in vacuum, to best prevent atmospheric decay. Gears that rubbed - ever so gently - against each other, wearing off the thin layer of oxides that coated the surface.
It was as the
Pandora travelled past the orbit of Pluto - before even leaving Earth's solar system - that two important gears
welded themselves together.
And the clock. Stopped.
Ten thousand coldsleeping colonists, the Earth's best banks of equipment, thousands of tonnes of carefully preserved food, everything needed to create a brave new world on Gliese 667 Cc...
...but suddenly, the journey didn't have an end.
No preservation is perfect. Given enough time, everything fades. Every process ends. Every energy source eventually runs out. The Second Law of Thermodynamics offers no loopholes.But given enough time, anything can be seen.
--------------
Code:
*P*A*N*D*O*R*A*
Login: root
Password:
You are now logged in as root. PANDORA is running in Timeless mode. Power supplies are **CRITICALLY LOW**
#> start clock
Starting clock.
...............
Clock started. PANDORA is now running in Clock mode. Please note that Clock mode uses more power than Timeless mode. Power supplies are **CRITICALLY LOW**
#> show status --colonists --summary
All colonists are in cryogenic sleep. 98% of colonists are healthy. 1.7% of colonists will require medical care on waking. 0.3% of colonists are dead. No colonists are currently awake. Power supplies are **CRITICALLY LOW**
#> start landing sequence
!!!WARNING!!! - scans for a suitable landing site or world have not been completed. Override scanning and land anyway <yes/no>? yes
Please enter coordinates:
>3, 21.43829, 33.54290, 1107.3524
Coordinates valid. Starting landing sequence. Power supplies are **CRITICALLY LOW**
#> logout
--------------
With a hissing noise, your cryosleep module opens.
It is clear, from the start, that something is wrong. You were not supposed to be the
first people woken. The lights are out - only the indicator lights on the other cryogenic modules are glowing, barely enough to see your way around. (They
are glowing green, at least - the occupants are alive).
You are weak. Your mind is foggy. This much was expected - cryosleep sickness. You were warned about it.
You were told that there would be a meal ready for you to eat the moment you woke up, to help you recover quickly. You were told that by the time you woke up, there would be hundred of others already up and awake. You were told that the fusion power supply that powers the ship would last for several centuries longer than the ship's first, and only, voyage. You were told that the solar panels coating the hull would provide a backup supply, more than sufficient for light usage. You were told that the ship would be well-lit, well-populated, that others would have things under control when you woke up.
Yet, despite all you were told, you are the first three to awake.
Nathan Snow.
Arkady Sergeyovich Fedorenko.
Felix False.
No other cryogenic capsules open.
Gravity suggests that you have landed. But clearly, something, somewhere, has gone wrong.