I’VE GOT TO hand it to Arnolfi; she plays a good game. She looks concerned, genuinely so, but I know she’s behind all this. The timing is just too coincidental. Principia knows I was viewing data gathered from the cams, so it’s reasonable to assume that Arnolfi knows that too. She has the access privileges and the right to examine my activities here under the umbrella of being a mental health care professional. She must have realized I was zeroing in on whatever Principia has been trying to hide from the cam data. Principia must have told her that it had to remove the mast from the image I was sketching and she’s called this meeting to announce the drop in comms as a distraction. There’s a chance Principia has dug about in my chip, without my knowledge or consent, and found the files that Travis put there. She must have cooked this up with Principia; the dust storm can’t be faked indefinitely, and to stop me from using the dead drop they’ve had to invent this comms cut. It’s extreme, and faintly ridiculous, but it underlines how far they’re willing to go to stop me from uncovering their lies.
But, reflecting on it, cutting off the comms from Earth is far too heavy-handed an approach. And if I had rumbled Travis’s plan, I wouldn’t do anything like this; I’d let everyone involved carry on in ignorance, so I could see what data was sent and how bad the leak was. Then I’d have ample evidence for prosecution.
This is paranoia again. The flush of willful disbelief in what is really happening starts to fade. I am not the center of the universe and this is not necessarily all about me and what I’m supposed to be doing for Travis Gabor. I don’t trust Arnolfi, but I can’t be certain that this is all a ruse.
I think back to the disappointing messages from Charlie and Mum and the fact that nothing else has come back from them yet. The comms could have started malfunctioning already, causing that sense of disconnection from my family. No, that doesn’t feel right either.
Biting my tongue to remind myself to stay quiet, I scan the faces of the rest of the crew, trying to work out if any of them are in on a secret with Arnolfi. Elvan looks worried and a little bit shocked, as does Petranek. Banks is gripping the table, his upper lip shining with sweat. He looks like he’s trying not to panic as he stares at his own fingernails. JeeMuh, he could have sabotaged something. Is he scared of being found out? Or has this happened because he hasn’t been maintaining the comms array when he said he was?
Then it all clicks into place; he’s panicking because he knows what Principia is trying to hide from me. Maybe that’s why he hates me so much, because he thinks that I’m going to find out what he’s been up to. Travis assumes his husband is behind the secret payloads, but that is something Banks could have set up with secret backers on Earth. Stefan Gabor probably has no idea what is sent to Mars and why. He certainly didn’t seem to care about it at the dinner party.
A rival corporation may be using Banks to get one over on Gabor, using his tech, his money and his exclusive rights to gather data—or whatever is being done up here—beneath GaborCorp’s nose the whole time. Damn! It’s bold and crazy and certainly stressful enough to account for Banks’s strange behavior. Looking at him now, and his barely controlled panic, I’m starting to think that he is behind it all. Maybe Arnolfi found out and he persuaded her to keep it secret. Then they fought about it, he went outside and she stayed in, trying to work out what to do.
“Okay, no comms . . .” Petranek breaks the silence. “So, I’m guessing that the prince has checked all the obvious things?”
“Would you like me to participate in this meeting?” Principia’s default voice pipes through the communal speakers.
“Yeah,” Petranek replies without consulting anyone. I guess I’m the only one here who has any problem with it and I keep silent.
There’s a brief notification that pops up in my visual field, one I’m too distracted by watching Banks to take in, and then Principia’s avatar appears to walk up to the table, taking a place between Arnolfi and Petranek.
A furtive glance at the others tells me that they can all see it too. Principia notes my brief confusion and says, “Everyone here can see me, but I appear according to everyone’s preferences, using Augmented Reality through each individual’s chip.”
Embarrassed that it felt I needed the clarification—and that I actually did—I give a quick nod. I can feel Elvan’s gaze and glance at him to see his reassuring smile. It’s not an immersion psychosis symptom, that smile tells me. I wonder briefly how Principia’s avatar looks through Elvan’s chip. Has it chosen to present itself to him as a woman who looks like me?
“Would you like me to confirm what I have considered the obvious things to be, Dr. Petranek?” At hir nod, Principia continues. “I can confirm that the equipment used on Mars to receive communications is in perfect working order. I have also verified that I am able to send messages, but I cannot verify that they have been received, as no confirmation pings or data receipts have left Earth.”
“How can you be sure we’re receiving?” Elvan asks.
“I have used several satellites in orbit around Mars to check the functionality of the local comms array. I have been able to ping the communications satellite that orbits Earth, used by GaborCorp to route comms from Earth to Mars. The comms problem is local to Earth. I cannot identify where the problem originates or its nature. It could simply be a matter of the satellite in orbit around Earth suffering a malfunction. However, its system appears to be in perfect working order and none of its fail-safes have been triggered.”
“What could the cause of the silence be, then?” Elvan asks.
“There are a few possibilities,” Petranek says. “It could be as simple as one link in the chain going down, stopping any broadcasts reaching the first satellite relay.”
“You don’t believe that though, do you?” Elvan replies.
“No.” Petranek leans forward, resting hir head on hir hands. “Look, the system that was put in place to maintain contact between Earth and Mars is super-robust. This is not the sort of shit that can go down easily. Even if there has been a mechanical error, there are so many backup solutions I don’t think the problem would last for long. GaborCorp owns over a hundred satellites, a good chunk of which could easily be repurposed if the main one went down. Which we don’t think is the case anyway. I think the most likely explanation isn’t technical.”
“Meaning someone over there has decided to cut us off?” I ask. “Can they even do that?”
“Of course they can; it’s not hard,” Petranek replies. “The comms channel between Earth and Mars is a deliberately narrow pipe. It’s all encrypted, and short of someone purposefully hacking into a very specific set of GaborCorp servers, no one else can talk to us. It’s part of the exclusive rights setup and the deal with the network for the show. No one wanted any leaks. The most likely explanation is that, for whatever reason, GaborCorp has cut us off. Hopefully it’s temporary.”
“But why would they do that?” I ask. “We have contracts and the right to—”
“Oh, fuck any rights you might think you have!” Banks snaps. “It’s obvious what’s happened here.”
“It isn’t to me,” Elvan says quietly.
“Hostile takeover.” Banks practically spits the words out. “I saw it coming a fucking mile off. The ratings for the show have been in decline and that was the main money-spinner. Gabor doesn’t give a shit about the science or even Mars. He wouldn’t have any reason to fight for the contract if someone else wanted it.”
Petranek shakes hir head. “Bollocks. If there was a takeover, we’d have been notified. They have a legal responsibility to inform staff, even if they’re on another planet.”
“What if Gabor is being prosecuted?” I ask and immediately regret it when everyone stares at me. I shrug. “I’m just trying to think of reasons why that notification may not have come through. Maybe if something really big happened, everything could have been frozen. That’s what happened with that printer subsidiary a few years ago. Over ten thousand people couldn’t print any food, just like that, no warning. The legal notices came through over twenty-four hours later.”
“Even if that’s what’s happened, the radio silence can’t be part of a hostile takeover,” Petranek says with confidence. “No one can take the Mars contract from Gabor while there are people here without guaranteeing the safety of the Principia crew. Communications with Earth are defined as core survival needs. I can show you the clause right now.”
“That clause is a crock of shit,” Banks says, rubbing his fingertips over the sweat on his upper lip. “There are like ten thousand fucking loopholes that could be exploited. We’re going to die here.”
“What the fuck is your problem, Banks?” Petranek’s stare doesn’t seem to penetrate his panic. “We’re protected by globally recognized law, not just our GaborCorp contracts. Stop freaking out and—”
“You’re protected!” he shouts. “Whatever is happening, all of you are going to be fine, so don’t tell me how I should be reacting to this!”
In the silence that follows his outburst, I look at Arnolfi. She seems just as puzzled as the rest of us.
“Just tell us what your problem is, for fuck’s sake,” Petranek says.
“She knows,” he says, pointing at me. “It’s why she’s been sent here.”
“What?” I don’t have to fake my confusion; I can’t see how this follows from what Travis did. And surely Banks doesn’t even know about that.
“That’s why he sent you here, isn’t it? To take my place. You’re just what the network wants. White skin. Blue eyes. Get those ratings back up. You can drop the act now.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, relieved that from the sound of it, he’s referring to Stefan Gabor and why he sent me, rather than Travis. Then the comments about the way I look, here and back in my room, finally sink in. “Is this why you’ve been treating me like shit since the moment I got here? Because you think I’m going to steal your job?” I laugh. I can’t help it. It bursts out of me, fueled by nerves and the old sense of absurdist humor. “Seriously?”
He’s caught between defending his position and accepting he may be wrong. “They really sent you here to paint?”
“Yeah, they really did. I had to fight to get clauses added to cover me for geological work. You can look at my contract if you don’t believe me. There’s one section about the show, if memory serves, saying I need to make myself available for filming, that I answer to you and some stuff about what I’m not allowed to talk about when being filmed. That’s it.”
He leans back, attention turned inward as he hears the truth in my tone.
“I’d be a terrible presenter,” I say. “I can’t do what you do, and even if I could, I don’t want to take your job.” I try to meet his eyes. “In fact, before you treated me like shit, I was a huge fan of yours. There’s no way they’d replace you, let alone with someone like me.”
The smile I was hoping to get in return doesn’t materialize, but for the first time, he doesn’t glare at me. It feels like he’s looking at me properly for the first time. “So I totally misread all this, then.”
“See for yourself.” I send the relevant portion of my contract to him and he scans it in moments.
“Shit,” he mutters.
“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘sorry,’” Elvan says.
“I am sorry. I was—”
“A total dick.” Petranek finishes the sentence for him.
“That too,” Banks agrees. And then I get that smile, the one I’d been looking forward to for so long, and it sends an electric thrill though my chest.
“Right.” Petranek leans back. “So, now that’s sorted, let’s think about this loss of comms. Is anyone waiting for anything critical to come back from Earth?”
Everyone shakes their heads. “Just personal messages,” I say and everyone else agrees apart from Arnolfi. She looks pale and drawn. Maybe she doesn’t have anyone back home to talk to. “You haven’t said anything,” I say to her.
She blinks at me. “It’s not my area of expertise,” she replies. “I was waiting for feedback on a paper from my colleague and . . .”
Trailing off, she looks like she could cry at any moment. I look to Elvan, but he’s checking something only he can see. Banks and Petranek are looking at some figures they’ve called up on one of the screens.
“. . . and then Principia said that the comms were down. I thought it would be best to call a meeting about it.”
“I want to know if anyone else has gone dark,” Petranek says. “If it’s just the GaborCorp comms network, then it’s likely to be some sort of legal dispute. If others are down too, it could be something else. Terrorist attack maybe. Something like that. Can you tell us, Principia?”
The avatar shakes its head. “I do not have authorization to access data broadcast on non-GaborCorp channels.”
“But can’t you just, I don’t know, pick it up from space?” Elvan asks. “I remember something in a cartoon from when my dad was a kid, with aliens watching Earth TV that had just kind of leaked into space.”
Banks smirks. “Maybe in the days of analog broadcasting, but not now. We’d have to tap into a specific satellite network and decrypt the transmissions.”
“Yeah.” Petranek sighs. “You’re right. Stuff isn’t just blasted out there for free anymore.”
“But these are extenuating circumstances, surely?” I say. I want someone to push this. I want someone to expose the lie. I may not understand why we’ve been cut off, but I know someone here is trying to stop us from talking to Earth, and I am—or rather, Travis is—the most likely reason for that. “You said yourself that communication with Earth is classed as a core survival need. Surely GaborCorp lawyers would defend us in these circumstances?”
Everyone else looks at Banks, as if they know something that I don’t. He shakes his head. “No.”
“C’mon, Banks—she has a point,” Petranek says. “You know how to tap into different networks, don’t you? You did it that one time when there was the—”
“Theoretically,” Banks cuts in, flicking a nervous glance toward Principia’s avatar. “But it would be illegal, and Principia would be obligated to report it.”
“I would,” Principia says. “I would also include any supporting statements from the crew along with my report.”
“We’d back you up,” Elvan says. “Then at least we’d be able to find out if there’s some sort of legal dispute going on, or a hostile takeover.”
Banks shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “No, I can’t.”
I look to Arnolfi, seeking a sign of collusion between them, or even a veiled threat in her eyes, but she’s focused elsewhere, eyes scanning something in her visual field.
“But—” Petranek begins, and Banks stands up, slamming his hand on the table.
“I said no! And that’s the end of it! If GaborCorp wants to keep us in the dark, we have to deal with it.”
We all watch him leave. Petranek, looking distinctly unimpressed, folds hir arms. “Did he just flounce? ’Cause that looked like a flounce to me.”
“Definitely a flounce,” Elvan says and, frowning, looks at Arnolfi. “Did you talk to him?”
She jolts, as if caught daydreaming. “I haven’t had a chance.”
“What’s going on?” Petranek leans in, lowering hir voice. “Is something wrong with Banks?”
“I saw him crying outside,” Elvan says. I keep the correction to myself, knowing that he’s doing it to keep me out of it and to limit the sense of gossiping.
“Maybe it was because he thought I was going to replace him,” I suggest.
“He hasn’t been himself since you got here,” Petranek says and then winces. “That came out wrong. It’s nothing to do with you, obviously, and he knows that now. Maybe he’ll get his head together and then come back to us on the comms. He’s always been one to do stuff by the book. Maybe we just put too much pressure on him all at once.”
“Sometimes rules have to be broken for the greater good,” Elvan says, and I try not to read more into it. If we had an affair, there wouldn’t be anything good that could come from it.
“I think that’s a step too far for Banks.” Petranek stands and stretches. “As far as I see it, if Banks isn’t willing to hack into another corp’s comms network, we just have to wait until GaborCorp comes back online or until the forty-eight hours are up.”
Arnolfi’s head snaps up. “What do you mean?”
“If GaborCorp can’t reestablish a connection within forty-eight hours, they are obligated to report it to the Noropean gov-corp, and then the comms will be handled by them, whether Gabor wants that or not. I reckon there are several really fucking stressed people back home, arguing with lawyers, knowing this all too well. Whatever the problem is, if Banks isn’t willing to check what’s going on for us, the only thing we can do is sit tight until Norope takes over or until GaborCorp sorts their shit out.”
“And what if they don’t take it over?” Elvan asks.
“Then you’ll have to make contact with them for us, won’t you, Principia?”
“I will be forced to intervene,” Principia says.
Arnolfi’s lips are now just a mere suggestion of a line scoured across her face as she stares at Principia’s avatar. I’m doing the same. The phrasing “forced to intervene” intrigues me. If it was a person saying that, I would think there had been a disagreement between them, but Principia was going along with her plan, for now. Principia being an AI, I try to resist that interpretation. They mean what they say with no subtlety. To interpret anything more than that would be giving in to the lure of paranoia.
I will not be my father.
“I’ll be in the lab if anyone wants me,” Petranek says and Elvan stands too.
I watch them leave and then I turn back to Arnolfi. “Are you all right?” I ask, but there’s another question I’d rather be asking. Are you behind all of this? But I know I won’t get a truthful answer out of her; I just know it.
She swipes something away from her vision. “It’s just a bit unsettling.”
“Yeah.” I lean back, folding my arms and crossing my legs, noticing my defensive body language too late. “This comms problem couldn’t be caused by someone on the base, could it?”
She remains silent so I look at Principia. “No communications are reaching the first satellite relay in orbit around Earth, Dr. Kubrin. This situation has not originated on Mars.”
“Why did you ask that question?” Arnolfi asks. Now she’s focusing again, that bloody therapist brain of hers is kicking back in.
I shrug. “Just wanted to be certain.” I look at the avatar again. “Is that dust storm still blowing outside?”
“Yes, Dr. Kubrin. Would you like me to show you the footage from the external cams?”
I don’t manage to keep a slight chuckle from escaping. “Oh, go ahead.”
Images of dark, chaotic swirls of dust are displayed on the communal screens. “And that’s live, right now?”
“Yes, Dr. Kubrin.”
“If you say so,” I mutter, getting up. “I guess I’d better carry on with my painting, then.” I can’t resist giving Arnolfi one more look, and my distrust must be showing, because she seems to shrink back before she looks away.
When I’m halfway across the room, I hear Arnolfi’s chair scrape back. “Dr. Kubrin. I know you didn’t want to talk about your father and his mental health issues, but I do feel it would be useful.”
I round on her. “Useful for who, exactly?”
“You, of course.” She’s more composed now, but still very pale. She’s more than unsettled; she is stressed out. “I’ve noted your distrust of what Principia has been reporting, and I think we need to make sure that any paranoid tendencies aren’t allowed to fester. They can be so damaging, as I’m sure you are aware.”
“Don’t you”—I cut off what I planned to say, fumbling for a replacement—“worry about a thing, Dr. Arnolfi. I know the difference between paranoia and being lied to very well.”
I wish I were as confident as I sound. I’m little better than a stupid male duck, puffing out chest feathers to seem more impressive. I want to have it out with her, here and now, get it all out in the open. But something holds me back. Perhaps the sense of self-preservation that has served me well in the past. I always knew when to be quiet around Dad. I certainly learned faster than Geena and my mother did. All of my instincts now are telling me to back off, to let her think she’s winning. I don’t even know what game we’re playing here, but I know the surest way to lose is to expose my hand too quickly.
I give her a polite smile and leave before I lose my self-control, walking briskly back to my room. Locking the door behind me, I let out a long breath and kick off my shoes. The blank canvas is where I left it on the easel, the sketchbook resting on the bed, covered in eraser rubbings.
This is not paranoia. The coincidences are too great. Principia is hiding visual data from me and stopping me from going outside to see things for myself. It’s stopping me from flying drones over the area I need to investigate. I send a message to my husband, mentioning a footprint and a sense of unease, and less than twenty-four hours later, before he has had a chance to reply to that message properly, communication with Earth is oh so conveniently cut off.
Laying it out in my mind like that, and dredging up some faith in myself that I know what is real and what isn’t, makes the fluttering panic in my chest subside. This is totally different from what happened to Dad. I am not acting the same way he did. I’m not talking to people who are not there; my mood isn’t swinging between happy and murderously angry. This is all really happening and Arnolfi and Principia are at the epicenter.
And now I feel angry. Something is being hidden, and I have a good idea where to find it. I don’t know whether Principia is aware of Travis and what he’s done, but it knows I’m closing in on the place where the answers are, and that AI is stopping me from getting to them.
I’m not sure how Arnolfi fits into this, but I’m convinced she’s involved. She’s hiding something, and I can see it taking its toll. For now, the best hypothesis I have is that she is involved with covering up Gabor’s secret activities, and my poking around in things is stressing her out. I thought Banks was involved, but I’m less certain now. Then again, for a man known to be rigid in his obedience to the rules, he’s certainly very good at sneaking out to places he shouldn’t go. Sneaking outside to have a good cry hardly makes him seem like the mastermind behind all this fuckery though.
I just want to be free of all of these questions and this constant sense of unease. If I’m going to get to that hidden area, I need to get out of the base. If Banks can trick Principia into thinking he’s going in the opposite direction from his actual bearing, maybe he can do the same for me, and that will be a lot more efficient than having to make several trips to feed the visual data to Travis’s cover-up program.
I head for his room before I have a chance to talk myself out of the shitty plan that is barely formed in my mind. Banks is only just starting to come around to my presence on the base, so there’s little chance he’ll do this for me as a casual favor. There is one thing I’m certain of though: he won’t want anyone else to know he’s been making unauthorized trips and tricking Principia. If I’m going to get to whatever is being hidden on the other side of that bloody crater, I need to get some help from someone on this planet, rather than a copy of them trapped inside my hacked chip. Even if I have to put the pressure on Banks to do it.