"...'Eternal Understanding' is equipped by all members of the expedition. For the foundational function of this device is native translation.
At the beginning of the expedition, crew members were selected from volunteers across the globe. Naturally, being natives of different language groups, these individuals would have spent much time establishing contact and understanding each other.
The leading members of the Union developed a special algorithm allowing for the native translation of phrases, and through an appropriate form factor, it erased the boundary between the interlocutor's speech and the translated speech. Consequently, 'Eternal Understanding' is mounted in the user's ear canals and, without muffling other sounds, replaces the speech of the interlocutor.
In common usage, this implant is also called the LAA, or 'Linguistic Acquisition Assistant.' Because during its use, a rather significant bug, or even a feature, crept in. Since during the operation of this device, the primary speech is replaced for us by the translation, this same function, as of now, can do nothing about the sound wave itself. So, in case of your prolonged—and I mean up to annual cycles—communication with a person who uses a language different from yours, then upon disabling the translation, statistics show an eighty-five percent chance you will understand everything your interlocutor says to you.
How about that.
Among the communication implants is also one called the 'Mnemonic Abyss.'
The 'Mnemonic Abyss' is a film placed directly beneath the skull. Through one puncture, it is distributed across the entire perimeter of the human brain, with the help of nanobots, and serves both as a link between the human and the CI and as a device for uploading 'new experience.'
From human nature, one can understand that a person comes into this world without any knowledge or experience, possessing only a set of primitive instincts. Like, if something is hot or painful, move away from the source of the negative reaction quickly. If you're hungry, cry, because through the evolution of your species, your mother knows something is happening with you and measures must be taken.
We learn communication processes by imitating the actions of the people around us. We begin to reason when we notice differences in the actions and deeds of people, fundamentally different from the examples we have seen, performed by others or the same persons under similar circumstances. And we form our own 'self' based on experience, knowledge, and the surrounding society.
Why am I saying all this? To point out that at birth, our grey friend is a blank slate. Well, the brain, that is. And it's blank in comparison to physics and its foundations in the form of protons and neutrons. Through specific interactions of which we obtain a specific substance, like different architectural solutions in building houses from similar materials.
So, when our newly born organism interacts with the environment, connections begin to form at the physical level in the brain between our neurons—essentially like the red strings of connection on a detective's board, predominantly in noir films.
And only somewhere around twenty or twenty-five years of age can we see ourselves in this web of neural connections. At the very least, this is why specialists note that it is necessary to spend a lot of time communicating with a child.
This is all well and good. But how, with such a natural structure of a computational machine, do our valiant expedition members, while in anabiosis, use the CI system and control robots in real-time? Because as we know, anabiosis is the slowing of vital activity to mind-boggling levels, and without special devices, an organism undergoing such changes would simply die.
And the speed of creating new neural connections in the brain, or formulating and sending commands to it, would be slower than a snail race where the winner is the individual finishing the slowest among its competitors. That is, one can forget about simply using robots or participating in crew life.
This is where the 'Mnemonic Abyss' comes to the rescue. It stores the personality of its bearer in its memory, expressed in algorithmic formulas describing all the individual's interactions with the world around them. Consequently, so-called 'personality imprints' participate in the CI system and in robot control, these imprints further developing through their participation in the expedition's activities.
The awakening of an individual under these conditions increases from one daily cycle to two weeks. During this time, the 'Mnemonic Abyss' models all actions performed by the imprint back into the original's brain. This information is perceived by the original similarly to a dream, but with much greater detail.
Such awakenings often have side effects, like migraines, and sometimes auditory and visual hallucinations for up to half a year after awakening.
Whew, in principle, there are still many various implants, like artificial muscles or bones; sometimes one can even encounter mechanization, like once I saw a character who had something resembling a pedestal instead of legs, with a movement function using tracks. Well, that was clearly handmade, not something for mass production.
I think that's all for today. Thank you, void, for listening and not clobbering me over the head for being tedious.
End of recording."
"Wheeew." Vik finished today's recording with a drawn-out exhale. "Should think about what to record next." Slowly getting up, his knees aching slightly in the evening from the morning workouts, and muttering under his breath, he headed off to get ready for bed.
The apartment itself—in common parlance, or the cabin, as per regulations—was not cluttered with many belongings. The sleeping area seemed built into the wall, resembling a niche one and a half meters high, but the remaining space up to the ceiling was equipped as free area, accessible from the technical room located between the sleeping area and the bathroom. Diagonally across from the sleeping area was the glass-enclosed kitchen zone, and between it and the bathroom was a built-in wardrobe. On the other side of the kitchen zone was the dining or work area, depending on circumstances. Behind it were a few soft armchairs. Devices for media entertainment or work-related pastimes were built into the ceiling. From there, when needed, a base would descend, to which the image-displaying screen was attached. The apartment was also equipped with monitoring and surveillance systems, transmitting information to the security service algorithms; a person could only access these files in case of extreme necessity. The entrance to these premises was located precisely between the sleeping and dining areas.
This was, however, one of the standard layout options that Vik had chosen from those offered, considering only the abundance of free space and the compact arrangement of living zones. And subsequently, he was not interested in adding new modifications.
Vik's typical daily routine was also not filled with unexpected incidents or events. From an early age, he had clearly understood from his own experience the beneficial influence of discipline and control over the desires of his body. Just as anthrobot users monitored the condition of their machines for quality functioning, so too must a human or any other sentient being monitor the condition of their own organism for comfortable existence. Consequently, Vik lived according to a schedule most comfortable for him: usually sleep, waking up, training, an ultraviolet bath, work, unwinding, and all these actions polished with quality and, most importantly, varied nutrition. Although he cooked well, he had to relearn when he started living alone, because even if he ate the same thing for two or three days, not only the dish but its components could disappear from his diet for up to several monthly cycles.
The primary example of controlling his own organism was the practice related to the 'Mnemonic Abyss' and anabiosis over a monthly cycle, and the adaptation process itself taking about a week. Subsequently, he began to strengthen his organism gradually, avoiding fanaticism in this pursuit.
Nothing particularly new happened until the end of the week. Kira was preparing for the decisive match before the redistribution. Phil was planning further work tasks and applied a not-so-technological crowbar to the high-tech suit to free the work station from the failed shredder and its anthro-victim.
On the last workday of the week, by midday, Vik had finished his tasks for this cycle and, with nothing else to do, began unpacking the scanner. The metal box, assembled from one-millimeter-thick steel sheets, disassembled fairly easily. Inside, snugly packed, was the Industrial Material Scanner zero-nine.
The IMS-09 was a complex of instruments, whose classic composition consisted of three mechanisms. The first, the heart of the entire device, was the scanner itself, which utilized numerous diagnostic substances contained in vials. By passing impulses through them and receiving an echo in response, the scanner displayed this or that information. The second, no less important component, was the mobile crate in which the scanning device was housed. The crate had the shape of a tetrahedron, with mechanical legs on all sides in their assembled state, serving for its movement in space. The third instrument was the control station, essentially a tablet with devices for manipulating the crate in space. It was also the sole device for both displaying and outputting information after scanning.
The primary field of application for the device was scanning captured space objects encountered along the vessel's path. Compared to icebergs in the so-called ocean, these encountered wayfarers offered much more to our travelers.
Due to the crate's maneuverability, our device was very practical both on the stage of whole workshop operations and in the fields of solitary work, detached from the main benefits of production lines.
This particular IMS-09 had a rather worn appearance. But it wasn't the look of a device that had been neglected; it was the look of a highly reliable fighter who had been through a lot. A tag with its markings had been printed on it earlier, but over time and use, it had worn down, and it was visible that the user himself had once retraced the previously erased writings, which for the uninitiated conveyed dry information, but for the passengers on this ship, these designations were almost household names.
'This device was developed based on the UNION organization, apparatus identification number 0367-8250'
One thing was clear: this scanner had been in operation for a long time, and by different individuals. And as Vik noticed on the applied maintenance chart, throughout its entire existence and operation, this apparatus had only undergone visual technical inspections, and a breakdown situation was occurring for the first time.
To start, he removed the device from the crate. This process went surprisingly smoothly, with no jamming of the rails in their slots. Because even working in a sterile environment with living organisms, over a long period of use, dust could have caused the slightest blockage of the rails, akin to sand. But examining the slots, he noticed that Richter probably serviced the moving parts at least once a month.
This couldn't help but inspire Vik, because an assessment based on observing this apparatus significantly reduced the number of potential failure points.
Opening the device's manual, pre-downloaded into his communicator, he began the diagnostics.
First, he removed the reagent vials. Structurally, the vials were designed with hermetically sealed plugs on their ends. They were identical and positioned symmetrically, allowing for installation without needing to find the correct orientation. The vial itself was made of a strong, transparent material, allowing for easy identification of the contents and monitoring of their consumption. This was because several types of active reagents, when the working wave passed through them, would, without losing their physiological properties or concentration, simply decrease in volume, while others would change color—this is how the operator could determine their depletion without immersion.
At the reagent level, no leaks or defects were detected.
Next, Vik proceeded to disassemble the hardware and analyze the circuitry. Spending about fifteen minutes on this, no defects were found here either. In this area of the device, in his opinion, gentle cleaning had been performed more than once. So the probability of a breakdown here was also small.
Continuing to take the device apart, he finally reached the power element. It was a slug of a metal mixture enclosed in a cocoon. The advantage of this truly old alloy was the absence of degradation over a long duration, at least since the start of the expedition. This material was developed by the UNION shortly before the launch of Shambhala. And under the influence of electricity, this material would accumulate its charge again and again.
Knowing this, Vik set it aside and continued his work, which by the end of the shift still hadn't answered the question before him: 'Why isn't the device working?'
"So, found the root of the problem?" Kira asked, examining the previously disassembled set of mechanisms. "Maybe the scan got offended at it?" A note of sarcasm reflected in her voice, already tired by the evening.
"Actually, I don't think so. Look..." He pointed to the traces of care and maintenance on the device.
"Yeah, well. So, they've got a... what's it called... a domovoi* started up in there, or something, not a technical gremlin, but like an old lady with a scythe, trained and serving in glory to the mechanical god, ooh ooh ooh," she suggested, trying to spook him.
(*Translator's Note: A domovoi is a protective house spirit in Slavic folklore.)
"Yeah, right, he just sneezed on it and shattered the entire logic of this soldier's existence. It could have lived on and on, but then, unexpectedly, its hour came."
"Or maybe it just can't. Let's pack up, you two," said Phil, approaching them. "Time to head home. Cover your patient with a screen, lest, don't let your Kira's mechanical god decide to take a component as a sacrifice, and then you, Vik, have to spend resources from your own pocket to recreate it." After this, he went to turn off the silent workers.
Vik placed the screening poles around the perimeter of the so-called patient and activated the screen. From the poles, flat clouds directed themselves towards each other. Their behavior resembled technical fluid spilled on water, spreading into an even layer of oily film. Only the color of this cloud was black, and after two separate clouds made contact, the surface solidified, becoming like fabric stretched between the poles, from the tops of which smoke also erupted, transforming afterwards into neat fabric.
"What are you planning to do at the end of the work week?" he asked Kira.
"Thinking of resting before the game. One and a half cycles left. Sigh, and that's it..." She sighed, her gaze sweeping over the workshop falling silent. "I was thinking it's good that at least professionally we aren't tossed around to different places, or you'd go crazy from the constant adaptation."
"Hah, our shift weeks are enough for that. So I think changing sports is for the best, you develop comprehensively and all that..." He approached Kira and leaned against the workstation next to her. "Sometimes it's funny how we try to transfer the characteristics or features of one object to another. Like, changing sports direction is all-around development, but constantly changing professional activity is like standing under a fan onto which they throw all sorts of paints, any kind, and in the end, you get completely painted black and can't adapt to anything."
"Well, I adapted to something," Phil chimed into their conversation again, emphasizing the evolutionarily increased protection from solar rays. "You know, about a hundred or two hundred years before my birth, people with my skin color truly couldn't adapt to anyone or anything, but after the educational boom, even work started looking for someone to adapt to. Although qualifications still decided everything in the end."
Questions that were asked back on Earth had completely lost their original meaning on Shambhala. To push to the forefront some group, frozen by a common characteristic, and their supposed sympathizers. This helped many achieve, by a roundabout way, their political or monetary heights, sawing away at the place occupied, as they believed, by unhewn blockheads, a place that rightfully belonged to them. The right of future fertilizer, which would soon play its final role in the evolution of the terrarium's atmosphere.
And the descendants of this fertilizer pushed off with curiosity from their dandelion and, using the same space and time, headed for a new field. Losing in the process of flight their little clearing, diligently fertilized three or four centuries ago, amidst the cries of those truly right in their picture of the world order.
Those supposedly offensive motives no longer carry any weight on a raft trying with all its might to reach its destination.
"Alright, mount up," Kira commanded, trudging towards the exit.
And the men had nothing to object with. For even if you are responsible in your work, you must also know when to stop for rest and preparation for new endeavors, which will consume both physical and psychological strength.
Closing up, as per ritual—all together—the team departed the work zone.
"Ah, I could really go for something tasty, and lots of it!" the lady of this small society voiced her need.
"Let's go to the cafeteria and treat ourselves," Vik suggested. "At least a little bit. I know you're on a pre-game diet and all..."
"Aargh..." she groaned playfully and with effort. "I know myself no worse than you do! I want a lot, a loooot, ah, well, at least let's go to your place." Tugging at his sleeve, Kira made a pleading face she had picked up from one of the movie nights spent with Vik. He clearly remembered her first attempt at it, and every time Kira resorted to this tactic, a picture appeared before his eyes of a contorting face trying to find just the right effect.
"Alright, I won't embarrass you lovebirds with my presence and will go find something for myself."
"Hey, what about me!" Kira protested.
"See ya." Phil smiled, said goodbye, and set off to make gastronomic discoveries.
The lovebirds, as Phil sometimes affectionately called them, headed to Vik's place and happily concluded this work week.