They found Sparky and Quan sitting on the ground, backs against the wall, facing the box in bay 22. Madam Antoinette was between them and the machine. Their power transformer was lit, and a cord snaked to the back of 22. After curt introductions, Palf looked at the settings. He then looked at the scanned image of the plate on the back and at the translation. “That’s pretty good,” he said at length. “I would use 220 volts instead of 230. Most of the time, the voltage supplied was a bit lower than the label to avoid damage from minor upward variations.”
Sparky made the change, while Quan got Aulaaona on screen. Without waiting, Quan flipped the switch, and, within twenty seconds, the machine’s LED lights came on. “Let the power run for an hour or so, just to see of something heats up.”
In the adjacent bay, Porliche was going over the machine in 23 thoroughly. She found a series of five otherwise unnoticeable small slits on the left side of the machine a little below her waist level and toward the back. These appeared to be the size that would fit the wafer. She removed one from her pocket and tried to put it in. The first slit she tried would not allow it in. It fit nicely into all the other slots.
She left the bay and rejoined the group. The machine that now had power had an almost undetectable low hum. Several of the LED lights did not function. She held up one of the wafers in front of Aulaaona’s camera and Palf and asked, “Does anyone know what this is?”
“Memory chip of that era,” said Palf without hesitation.
“Sounds reasonable,” said Aulaaona.
“What is the chance that the activity of these machines could be loaded onto one of these chips?” she asked.
“I have no idea,” said Palf.
“Same here,” Aulaaona said. “Do you know if it fits into the machine?”
“It does,” she said. All eyes went to her. “Around on the left side toward the back.”
Palf took the chip and squeezed into the narrow space. He placed the end with tiny gold teeth into the slot. The chip disappeared. The slot began to glow in a regular slow, pulsating rhythm.
“A message has appeared on the front of the box,” Quan almost yelled in excitement. “‘D-A-T-A space T-X-F-R.’ What does it mean?”
Porliche scanned it and engaged the translator as everyone else looked on.
“That is very sweet,” he said. “Where do you get those?”
The LED lights went off. The translator said, “Data followed by an unknown letter sequence, probably an abbreviation.” It then displayed a short list of options.
Almost simultaneously, everyone picked the same word and spoke it aloud: “Transfer.”
“Data transfer. I bet it shows what the machine was doing or receiving,” said Aulaaona.
“We may never know unless we find a way of getting the data from the chip into a machine we can use,” said Sparky.
“I can do that,” said Palf. “We have done it on other chips.”
As he stepped to the side of the box to retrieve the memory chip, Nin walked in wearing a new outfit. It was pure white and skintight as usual. It plunged deep in front to just below her navel. It plunged even deeper in the back, held together with tiny gold cords. It had pant legs solid down to the thighs and then cross-hatched down to her feet with increasing spaces as it ended in very scant sandals. Her hair had been recoiffed. Her sweet and bitter scent preceded her. She said nothing, trying to discern what was happening.
“When can we power up 23?” Porliche asked.
“Ministry will not permit it,” Palf said. “I wonder how we retrieve the card.” After fifteen minutes of random efforts, Sparky placed a finger below the slit and a thumb above. The chip ejected.
He handed it to Palfrey, who held the chip up into the light. “Very nice. I’ll be back at about two thirty. Hopefully, I can get permission from the bureaucrats by then. Quan, why don’t you come with me?” he said, pointing. “We can see if there is anything readable on this thing.” Quan and Palf left, Palf walking dangerously close to Nin as he walked to the exit.
When they were gone, Nin exhaled. “Oh my god. What an Adonis! Who is he?”
“He is Palf, the paleoengineer that is affiliated with the site,” said Porliche.
“Palf? Do you know what palf means in Australian? It means ‘vomit.’ How could someone so absolutely gorgeous be named vomit? I have got to change his name. Oh my god!”
An hour later, everyone was back in the Bunker. “We could not get a readout from the chip,” Quan said, “but we think we’ll be able to eventually.” Quan and Palfrey nodded to Sparks. He disconnected power to box 22 and pulled the power cable to 23.
“Permission has not been granted,” Antoinette intoned.
“I spoke with an undersecretary a few minutes ago,” Palfrey said.
“A bloke named Schmuthren,” Quan added.
“Quite right,” Palfrey said. “He said we could power it up as long as I was in charge and guaranteed the integrity of the artifact and the safety of the operation.”
“Permission has not been granted,” Antoinette repeated.
“But it has. Check again.”
“Permissions are immediately available when posted. You have been misinformed.” Antoinette moved closer to the machine 23. “You may power up other devices.”
“Sparky,” Nin said, “plug it in anyway.”
Antoinette spun slightly and shot a spark at Nin, hitting her high on her thigh, burning a small black hole in her white suit.
“Ouch! Damn it. That hurt!” Nin screamed. She put both hands over the site and fell to the floor.
“Nin!” Porliche hollered.
“I can’t use my leg,” Nin said. Porliche knelt over her. Sparks stepped well away from the cable.
“The paralysis is temporary,” Palfrey said. “No more than a minute.”
“I’m going to file a complaint,” Porliche said. “That was uncalled for.”
“Don’t waste your time,” Palfrey said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Welcome to Atlantica. The robots are programmed to comply with the laws here 100 percent of the time. We’re a bit more strict here than other places. And most of us have scars.”
“Ow! That hurts,” Nin moaned. She lifted her hands, and a charred spot the size of a lemon oozed blood onto her palms and spreading into the surrounding cloth. “Lord!”
“They aim for a major nerve,” Palfrey said. “Looks like she went for the femoral.”
“We traveled thousands of kilometers to get here,” Porliche said to Antoinette. “And we’re not allowed to see what we came here to see. That’s downright dishonest.”
Running footsteps approached. Madam Suzette appeared. “Is everyone OK?” She was panting. “I got notice that a bolt was fired in here.”
“There was an attempt to exceed the permission granted,” Antoinette replied.
Nin moaned and cursed on the ground.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “We have our rules.”
“Some sort of notice would have been nice,” Porliche said. “I had no idea this guard bot shot people on site without as much as a warning. How barbaric!”
“Everyone knows,” Suzette said.
“I’m a Monican. How would I know?”
Nin started moving her leg. With a little assistance from Porliche, she stood up. “Ruined that outfit,” she said. “It’s five years old, so I guess I’ve had good use—Gwolo! That stings.”
“Why can’t we power up 23?” Porliche asked Suzette.
“I have no idea. It’s from the top. They don’t consult me, and, frankly, they shouldn’t. I’m a docent, not a technician or scientist.”
“Who do I talk to?”
“To whom,” she corrected. “That would be Nigol Muffelo, the minister of artifacts. He is in the capitol, Romica.”
“Could I arrange a remote conference?”
“I doubt it, but you can try. He prefers face-to-face, especially with young women.” She smiled. “He can be swayed, they say, by certain kinds of persuasive, umm, arguments.”
“That’s Nin’s department,” Porliche said.
“Normally,” Nin agreed with a grin.
“How do I contact him?” Porliche asked.
“Come to the office, and I’ll get the process started. First, you’ll need a clearance, which takes a few weeks for a citizen and probably longer for a foreigner. Your ambassador will need to initiate the process. You’ll need an etiquette manager and hours of education about the government and its protocols. You’ll need a cleared list of—”
“Oh, stop!” Porliche said. “I’m going to be here for less than two more days, and then it’s back across the Atlantic.”
“Then you won’t be seeing the minister.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“It’s government.”
“I need to get back to the lodge,” Nin said, pulling on Porliche’s shoulder.
Sparks replaced the yellow tape as the group moved to the long hall that exited through the museum. Nin limped badly at first but improved as they moved slowly along. The group, without Suzette, huddled under the rustic portico.
“This memory card thing got me kind of excited,” Porliche said. “Like, I thought, if there are answers, they’ll be in documents.”
“You might be right,” Nin said.
“Would you like me to take a look at that burn?” Palfrey said, putting a hand on her shoulder.
A smile crept across her face. “I’d appreciate it. Take as long as you like.”
He knelt and looked and then prodded around it with his index finger. “There may be a way to get in here at night,” he said as he probed and nodded toward the door.
“Why wait till night?” Nin sighed.
Porliche punched her on the shoulder and growled in disgust. Palfrey stood up. “How?” Porliche asked.
“I know all the security features and the work-arounds.”
“Won’t we get in trouble?”
“It’s a tiny third-degree burn,” he said to Nin. “You’ll have a small round scar like this.” He pulled his sleeve up. Just above the crease at his elbow was a stellate white scar the size of a thumbprint. Nin slid her finger over it, and then he quickly covered it up. “Trouble?” Palfrey went serious. “Jail time if we get caught.” He paused. “And if the government doesn’t like what we find.”
Porliche put her hand over her mouth in dread. The gravity of his statement turned everyone somber.
“I’ll stick with the papers,” Porliche said.
“We probably won’t get caught,” Palfrey added.
“Aren’t the prisons in Atlantica kind of brutal?” Nin asked.
“Define brutal,” Palfrey said. “They’re up on frozen islands in the Atlantic or the North Sea where it’s frigid beyond belief, so the prisoners want to stay inside. They want to keep working at hard labor just to avoid freezing to death. And they say you’ll get warmed up every now and then by a good—”
“Enough,” Nin said. “Between the electrocutions and freezing, I think I’ll stick with Porliche in the library.”
“You are this close to the biggest discovery in a century,” he said, holding up a finger and a thumb almost touching. “A little risk is called for. I can disable the security so no one will know we were here.”
“Are you sure?” Quan asked.
“I’ve done it before,”—he shrugged—“twice.”
“Are the prisons coed?” Nin asked.
“Except for violent offenders and some sex criminals.”
“You’ve broken in to this facility at night without being detected?” Porliche asked.
“Like I said.”
“Would you do it again if you had sufficient reason?”
“In a heartbeat for this. It’s a career maker. I could leave this dung heap and go to the coast for a real job. And real men.”
“Let’s talk about this back at the lodge,” Porliche said. “I’m walking back after I get kicked off the server.”
Everyone else took the van.