Pangaea (from Ancient Greek pan “entire” and Gaia “Earth”) is hypothesized as a supercontinent that existed during the Paleozoic and Mesozoic eras about 250 million years ago, before the component continents were separated into their current configuration
– Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia
When Jem met Kir and SimOne for their second class later that week, she had reason to celebrate. “The planet is holding up,” she announced with a smile.
The Great Extinction had seemingly left them with too little to go on, but the little that remained had been sufficient. The planet was surviving, even thriving. The bio-diversity numbers climbed steadily. The oceans had repopulated; shelled cephalopods were diversifying from the single line that had survived the Great Extinction, and the fish and marine reptiles were taking hold, the latter growing to an enormous size.
“What about the land?” Kir asked, looking up from SimOne’s data feed. His dark-eyed gaze shifted to the planet rotating serenely in space, apparently oblivious to the fact that it was once again in play.
“The amphibians and reptiles are doing well. I’d say everything is moving according to plan,” Jem said.
“I think we need to diversify.”
“Not yet, Davos. We need to give them time to stabilize.”
“Cold-blooded life-forms are hardly the height of stability,” he said.
“When did you become a Biology major?” she asked sarcastically.
“I know just enough to be dangerous. I think we need to start moving toward the warm-blooded life forms.”
“Eventually, but not yet. We need to play it safe. I ran my analysis past my Biology professor this morning. He agrees with my assessment. The planet’s too immature. In a hundred million revolutions, we’ll consider it.”
Kir shook his head. “Look, I’m no Biology major, but I understand business. We need to diversify our risk. SimOne, I want an analysis of the reptiles. Which one most closely mirrors mammalian traits?”
SimOne’s serene voice reflected none of the heightened emotions around her. “Planetary sensors indicate that the therapsids provide the closest match.”
“You’re thinking of evolving it into a mammal?” Jem asked.
His eyebrows arched. “Any reason why I shouldn’t?”
“Have you done any analysis on this at all?”
“Of course I did. Carbon-based, warm-blooded life forms—also known as mammals—have historically done pretty well on Sylvania. Why wouldn’t they thrive on our simulated planet too?”
“That’s your analysis?”
He hesitated. “There’s a bit more, but that about sums it up.”
Jem frowned, her eyebrows drawing together. “Did you also analyze the differences between our planet and theirs?”
“No, I’m leaving that to you. SimOne, implement selective evolution for the therapsids.”
The android nodded. “Executing.”
“No!” Jem shouted. “Damn it. SimOne, cancel the program.”
“The program has been executed and cannot be cancelled. Would you like me to selectively exterminate the evolved species?”
Jem turned on Kir. “You can’t just make unilateral decisions. We need to analyze the information and then agree on a decision together.”
“We don’t have the luxury of time. Haven’t you noticed? The planet’s revolving too fast. Thousands of their years go by in the time it takes us to finish saying a single sentence.
Jem ground her teeth. “That’s what plans are for. We put a plan together and then work off the plan.”
“Evolution complete,” SimOne interjected. “The species survived the process.”
Kir held up his hands. “See? It doesn’t have to be complicated.”
“They’re going to get crushed by the amphibians and reptiles,” Jem said.
“Not during winter, they won’t. SimOne, identify another division or branch that could be a suitable candidate for evolution into a different branch.”
The android responded immediately. “Subgroup Ornithodira appears to be a suitable candidate.”
“All right. SimOne, evolve it.”
“Executing.”
“Into what?” Jem asked, alarmed. “You can’t just kick the evolution program into high gear without giving it direction.”
Kir rolled his eyes. “As opposed to telling it what it already knows? The program wasn’t designed by a dummy. It’s not going to evolve something that is unlikely to survive.”
SimOne spoke again. “Evolution complete. The species survived the process.”
Kir wore a satisfied smile. “See, that’s two. We’ve just reduced our risk by half.”
“Your math skills are highly questionable,” Jem snapped.
“Warning.”
Jem looked up at SimOne.
The android’s blue eyes—sweetly vacant by design—suddenly sharpened. For the briefest instant, she appeared human. “Warning: volcanic eruptions in progress.”
“What?” Jem lunged toward the planet, but pulled her hands back in time. Touching the planet could trigger far worse things than just an eruption. “The flood basalts again?”
“Yes.” SimOne was briefly silent. Was she processing information from the planetary sensors? “Warning: mass extinction in effect.”
“No, no, no. Stop it!”
“Planetary disruptions cannot be halted. Global temperatures are rising sharply.”
“It’s happening again.” Jem sank to her knees and buried her face in trembling hands. How could this be? They had been so careful. She had been so careful. It had been going well—the planet was recovering—and now this? She wanted to hold someone responsible, but she knew it was not Kir or SimOne’s fault.
If only she could be as sure that it wasn’t hers.
“What’s the status now, SimOne?” Was that shaky voice hers?
“Speed of extinctions accelerating.”
What do you do at a time like this?
She felt Kir’s warmth beside her. If he had hesitated before reaching out, it was brief enough to escape her notice. “The planet made it the last time. It’ll make it again,” he said, his voice quiet.
She shook her head slowly, but did not tear her hands away from his. They were warm in the chill of the laboratory. “Is the planet going to keep doing this?”
“It’s the molten core,” Kir pointed out. “I’m not sure what you can actually do about it, other than request a new planet with fewer structural issues.”
Now, that was an idea.
They waited, seemingly interminably, but for no longer than a few minutes. “The planet has returned to equilibrium,” SimOne reported finally.
“What’s the final count?” Kir asked.
“Twenty percent of marine families are extinct. Fifty percent of terrestrial species are extinct.”
“Fifty percent?”
Jem stifled an ironic chuckle at the tension and disbelief in Kir’s tone. It was about time. His unflappable calm and happy-go-lucky attitude grated on her nerves.
She pushed to her feet. “I think I need a short break. You want something to drink, Davos?”
“No, I’m fine. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on things until the end of class.”
The sunlight warmed Jem’s skin as she sat on the grass in the lower quadrangle with a bottle of nutrition-infused water in her hand. All around her, students lounged on the grass in various states of consciousness. Some personal devices were on, but there was little pretense of study. It was a gorgeous day; there would be many of those through the fall, before the onset of winter.
She loved Itibar University. The buildings were magnificent and delightfully old-fashioned—stately white columns and sturdy red bricks—but that was part of its charm. Behind those ancient walls, technology gleamed, subservient to the needs of the humans they served.
If only planet 280-934-6253-4726-349573 could be as easily managed.
Jem had both facts and experience on her side. Through SimOne, they had incredible planetary management tools at their disposal. And yet, within a single week, they had managed to take the planet from extinction to extinction.
Damn it.
Jem shook her head as she activated her personal device and flipped through her notes. Where had she gone wrong?
Kir’s astral image popped up in front of her biology notes. “Hey, you might want to check this out.” His disembodied head turned to look back, presumably at the android. “SimOne, transmit the data to her.”
Jem reached out with two fingers, plucked the three-dimensional image of Kir’s head off from her notes, and moved it to one side. “So, what’s this?” she asked as she scanned the data feed from the sensor reports.
“The planet is repopulating. We lost most of the large amphibians and reptiles in the extinction, but the evolved Ornithodira are taking over the vacated terrestrial ecological niches.” Kir sounded not just smug. He sounded ecstatic.
She had to see it.
Five minutes later, Jem was back at the simulation laboratory, peering over their planet. She pulled her cardigan tightly around her shoulders to ward off the chill. “What’s going on?” she asked, her tone sharper than she had intended.
Kir gave her a hard look, but did not comment on it. “The Ornithodira are diversifying, and some are growing to an incredible size. SimOne, can you pull up some images?”
Some of the Ornithodira were reptilian in form, bipedal with front feet that were little more than decorative appendages and teeth straight out of a nightmare. Others were even larger, each of their four feet larger than the trunks of the largest trees, their long necks balanced by equally long tails.
Jem shook her head in disbelief. Where had that diversity come from? Their sizes ranged from absurdly tiny to frighteningly large; herbivores, carnivores; bipedal, quadruped, and some shifting easily between both; elaborate displays, including horns and crests; skeletal modifications, including bony armor.
Kir peered over her shoulder. “The sensors are struggling to accurately track the count, but the estimate is close to four thousand genera.”
“Wow. That’s…that’s amazing,” she conceded. “But there’s just one problem.”
“And what’s that?”
“Your mammals are going nowhere.”
“I know. They’re restricted in both size and niche because the evolved Ornithodira have been so successful. But hey, at least one of those evolutions paid off in spades.”
She rolled her eyes. “That would depend on what you’re trying to accomplish.”
“A living world?”
“That’s so unambitious. What about your original plan to have the mammals take over?”
“Look, we need to adapt to the situation,” Kir said.
“Even if it’s sub-optimal?”
“Could you be pursuing a perfection that’s just not possible?” he asked pointedly.
That question was always at the top of her mind, but she did not think she was jaded enough to give up on perfection just yet. Nothing short of a perfect world would win the competition. “We need more than the Ornithodira,” Jem insisted.
“We can’t control everything about this planet. We take what we get and run with it.”
Jem flung a hand out at the planet. “If you’re not planning to actively shape its direction, why did you evolve the therapsids and the Ornithodira? Why did you even join the simulation?”
“I told you. Risk diversification. You hedge your bets and then you let the game play out. This simulation isn’t about active intervention. How would you feel if God was always actively intervening in your life?”
“A whole lot better than if he were completely indifferent.”
“What about doing things for yourself?” Kir challenged.
“What the hell do you call this? I am trying to do things, as opposed to hedging my bets and then sitting around.”
“What about free will?” he asked.
“Free will?” Jem scoffed. “The evolved Ornithodira have brains the size of a pea. They barely have enough computing power to figure out where their next meal is coming from. SimOne is light years closer to free will than those creatures will ever be.”
“Thank you,” SimOne said simply.
“You’re welcome.” Jem turned her scorching gaze back on Kir. “The Ornithodira are not the future.”
“The rat-sized mammals aren’t the future either.”
“And they never will be as long as those monsters are stomping around.”
“You’re going about this all wrong,” Kir said.
Jem scowled. “Funny. I was just thinking the same about you.”
“Is there a problem here?”
Jem jumped at the sound of Professor Ptera’s voice. She looked over her shoulder as the professor strode past the gas giants and the asteroid belt. He stepped around the red planet and stopped next to their little planet with its single satellite. “SimOne indicated that there were some interesting developments on this side of the universe. Anything you care to share?”
“No,” Jem said.
“Yes,” Kir said at the same time.
Professor Ptera looked from Jem to Kir. “Well, which one is it?”
Kir looked at her. She refused to reply. She would be damned before she admitted to the professor that they could not even agree on a plan.
“We’re having a philosophical discussion on our approach,” Kir said finally.
“Ah, those are always fun,” the professor said, a youthful grin lighting up his face. “Where did you come out?”
“We haven’t yet,” Kir said.
“You should know that those philosophical disputes may never resolve. Some members of last year’s teams still aren’t on talking terms with each other.”
Jem resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Yeah, we’re well on our way to that same state, and it’s just the first week.
“There is a simple way around it, though,” the professor continued.
“Change teams?” Jem asked, speaking up for the first time.
“Well, that’s an option, but it’s not what I had in mind. You can split up the planet.”
“Someone take the land and someone else the sea?” Jem asked.
“Or split up the landmass. Spread it around the planet. That could give you a bit of breathing room from each other and buy you time to test various philosophical approaches to world planning.”
“Excuse me, Professor Ptera,” SimOne said. “Central command reports that planet 541-837-8503-2650-376057 has just launched an assault on planet 249-306-7463-6580-694038.”
“An interplanetary war? I have to watch that. Well, I’m off. Let me know if you have any other issues.”
“Any other issues?” Jem muttered once he was safely out of earshot. “Other planets are well into the space age and here, our dominant life forms have no brains worth mentioning.”
Kir shrugged. “I suppose that telling you that it’s not the destination but the journey that counts isn’t going to help much.”
“The journey is pointless if you don’t have a destination worth the time you’re investing in the journey.”
Kir looked at the planet. “So, shall we split this up?”
“Yes.”
For a long moment, they stared at each other in sulky silence. Kir then turned to the android. “SimOne, can you execute a separation of the landmass?”
“Negative. You need to do that.”
“Why?”
“The action required exceeds the bounds of my authorization.”
It was good to know there were things that androids could not, or were not allowed, to do.
Kir shrugged. “We can do this slowly and carefully.” He stepped around the planet to stand on the other side, across from Jem. “You hold the top. I’ve got the bottom. We’ll just pull it apart gently.”
Jem clenched her teeth. Her eyes narrowed with concentration as she gripped the top half of the landmass. Water from the oceans sloshed over the side of the continent. How many creatures had died from the tidal wave she had inadvertently triggered?
Kir looked up at her, his dark eyes unusually focused and intent beneath his mop of brown hair. “Ready?”
She nodded.
“All right. Gently now.”
The continent tore apart, slowly. The rift started in the east, the ugly gash deepening and lengthening as they pulled the continent apart. The ocean rushed in to cement the separation. Jem and Kir paused, looking at each other across a tiny sliver of land that held the two pieces of the continent together.
Just a bit more.
The last tug was the hardest, not physically but psychologically.
It was done. One continent was now two.
Jem tugged the piece she was holding toward the north, rotating it slightly as she pulled it through the water. On the other side of the planet, Kir carefully broke his continent into smaller pieces. One piece he sent drifting toward the pole.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Hedging my bets.”
“Careful,” she warned, her tone sharp. “One of those pieces is about to collide with mine.”
“Whoops, sorry.” Kir caught it in time. “Don’t want another accident.” He positioned it carefully and then stepped back. “It looks good.”
“It’s more interesting, that’s for sure,” Jem agreed. “SimOne, how long until the next basal flood eruption?”
“The planet is ecologically stable. There is a one point six three percent chance of volcanic activity large enough to result in another mass extinction.”
She sighed. Just when she needed a mass extinction, she was told that the odds were not good. Her portion of the planet needed a fresh start. She needed a fresh start. Surely, there had to be another way to trigger a mass extinction.
Jem turned to stare at the gas giants in their elliptic orbits around the yellow star. Her gaze fell onto the fragments of rock, spinning in the asteroid belt. She smiled as she picked out a few small rocks from the asteroid belt.
“What are you doing?” Kir asked.
“Giving mammals another chance.”
“We may not get another volcanic eruption for millions of planetary years,” he said.
“We don’t need to wait for one.” She tested the weight of the rock in her hand. It was little larger than a pebble, but it would be enough. “SimOne, are you ready?”
“To report on a dying planet? Yes, I am.”
She was going to file a complaint on whoever had decided to program sarcasm into androids. Jem inhaled deeply. Her plan could be a huge mistake, or the single largest turning point in the history of the planet.
The rock flew through the air, hurtling toward the planet, spinning and accelerating as it fell. It brightened into a glow as it burned through the planet’s atmosphere.
Kir squeezed his eyes shut. “SimOne, evacuate Niseag’s family.”
“Executing.”
“What’s Niseag?” Jem asked.
Kir flushed. “Just a name I gave one of the evolved Ornithodira that I adopted as a pet.” He winced as the pebble collided with the planet.
SimOne’s vacant eyes flashed brightly. “Infrared radiation killed all exposed organisms at the crash site. Mega tsunamis are sweeping across the adjacent continents. Global firestorms are igniting from the heat pulse and the fall back of incendiary fragments from the blast.”
Jem listened. At that point, it was all she could do.
“The dust cloud from the impact and sulfuric acid aerosols have reduced the light of the star reaching the planet by twenty percent. Photosynthesis is severely inhibited; the effects are likely to last for ten planetary revolutions around the star.”
It would devastate the food chain for herbivores and carnivores alike, resulting in mass extinction, for the third time in a week. Jem dragged her hand over her eyes. Surely it had to be a record.
Kir did not look at her. He stared down at the planet, his lips set in a tight line.
“Belemnoids, ammonoids, rudists, and inoceramids are now extinct. Fifty-seven percent of terrestrial plant species at the impact boundary are now extinct. All major mammalian lineages survived, though damage is much more severe at the impact boundary.”
“And the evolved Ornithodira?” Kir asked softly.
“The evolved Ornithodira are now extinct.”
“All four thousand genera?”
“A single avian group survived, as did Niseag’s family.”
Her jaw tight and shoulders tense, Jem looked across at Kir. His eyes were closed. His chest rose and fell with a heavy sigh. When he finally looked at her, the flash of energy and gleam of good humor were gone. “Are you happy now?” he asked with quiet bitterness.
Without waiting for an answer, he turned his back on her and walked out of the laboratory.
Damn it. She had upset her partner, and she still did not know if she had made the right decision for the planet.
Jem assessed the scar left by the pebble. She could separate her continent into two, and give one part a chance to flourish while the other healed. She pulled the continent apart vertically, neither evenly nor well. The edges trailed jaggedly, some smaller pieces breaking off into islands.
“Please advise on further actions for Niseag,” SimOne said.
The right thing to do would be to terminate it. Its species, its world, everything it had known, was gone, but Jem could not terminate it, not when it was all Kir had left to remind him of the world he had created.
Jem leaned in and peered at one of the northern islands. “That looks private enough. Relocate Niseag and her family to a suitable habitat on that island.”
“That will not work,” SimOne said primly. “Niseag is a cold-blooded reptile and requires warm, tropical waters. The average water temperature on that northern island is five point five degrees.”
Jem’s temper snapped. “You know what, SimOne, I’m tired of running into roadblocks. I want you to find a way to keep Niseag and her family alive out there. Evolve her.”
Was it her imagination or did SimOne’s blue eyes flash mutinously for a fraction of a second?
SimOne said, “Executing.”
Jem waited.
“Evolution complete. The species survived the process.”
Jem took a single step back. From her vantage point, the planet orbited serenely on its tilted axis. She could see the damage from the pebble, but life was returning, slowly yet inevitably, to its seven continents. Charred brown gave way to verdant green as photosynthesis started up again. The oceans shimmered, blue and inviting, beneath the scattered white clouds.
The planet still wasn’t much to look at, but it was her planet.
Hers and Kir’s.
Jem glanced at her personal device as it beeped a warning at her. She would be late for her next class on Aesthetics unless she left immediately. She rolled her shoulders to release the tension locked in her upper back. “Take care of the planet, SimOne. We’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Certainly.” The android moved closer to the planet. A rare smile curved SimOne’s lips as she looked down at the blue and white orb. The android’s eyes shone.
Jem chuckled to herself as she left the laboratory. Planet 280-934-6253-4726-349573 was their planet: hers, Kir’s, and SimOne’s.