Buoyant
Twenty thousand light-years, countless billions of dollars spent, and the large globe of liquid in front of Mac Trommer was the best the space program could come up with.
He frowned as the last scan test spun down; Mac was sure that the boys in the bright white space suits were doing their best, but it was hard to justify the level of funding they were receiving – if it were up to Mac, greater amounts of money would be spent at on-planet, trying to fix at least a few of society’s ills.
Just as he had suspected – the substance in front of him was twice as buoyant as water, but half of the weight. That was significant, or would have been if similar substances hadn’t been discovered three years ago. They didn’t share identical properties, but lay along the same spectrum.
A few notes and he had all the data he needed for the non-interactive part of the testing sequence. New directives from HQ now mandated that he test each of the compounds discovered in a sterile environment and under multiple stress conditions – an issue with heat-resistant material discovered outside the solar system three years ago and used during a shuttle launch had forced the formation of several committees, and they were only now returning the results. Mac could have told them what they’d find and what to do about it; the material had failed for an unknown reason and they should never have used it in the first place. He doubted that the battery of tests he could run on the pseudo-water in front of him would yield anything definitive, but he’d do his job as ordered.
It wasn’t like had much choice, he thought as he moved the small basin containing the small into the testing room. Jobs weren’t exactly easy to come by any longer, and with over half of the population living on government handouts, he wasn’t willing to risk losing his gainful employment in a fit of pique. Mac was sure the directives of the higher-ups were ridiculous, but that didn’t stop him from following them to the letter. He liked his paycheck too much to risk a firing, or even another review.
He grimaced at the thought of Chairman Ryan’s flushed and florid face staring across the conference table at him, an open file folder and its contents spread across the glossy oak surface.
“Technician Trommer,” Ryan had said in his toneless voice, “from what I can gather you’ve expressed some…displeasure at following the directives that have been laid out by the Service.”
Of course, Mac had mouthed all the right words and assured the Chairman that he would never do anything to risk his job or the reputation of the Service, and had been allowed to go back to work with only a warning. He wasn’t stupid; another run-in like that and he’d be slinking to the Government bread lines like everyone else, wishing he’d had the good sense to keep his mouth shut.
The cold and heat tests finished up and he glanced at the results. There was nothing out of the ordinary - the water-like substance had done better with heat resistance than cold, and was taking a few minutes to re-constitute itself into liquid form.
A sonic reading showed a spike just as the test peaked, but Mac chalked it up to an irregularity in the system. He’d been bothering his boss for a refurb of the machine for the last few years, but was told the budget was too tight.
Mac grabbed the data printout and scanned it quickly, his interest rising. The molecular formation of the substance was showing a massiveness missing in water and similar compounds, and though it deformed under pressure, it showed remarkable resilience. Though he hadn’t found it to be any more viscous than ordinary H2O, it was apparent it had a number of unique qualities.
The blackout test was next, something he’d always felt was a waste of time. Darkness had little chance to produce a significant result, but was part of the series protocol.
A slurping sound brought him out of his seat as soon as the lights went off, and Mac stumbled in the near-total blackness to find the light switch, slamming his foot into the cyclophase on the way. He let out a sharp curse, and was shocked to hear a blurred echo.
As the flickering fluorescent lights came on, Mac felt his grip on gainful employment loosen. The substance was gone, the basin empty and dry, still rocking slightly on its pedestal from the force of the things departure. Had darkness destroyed it?
He found it on the ceiling of the isolation chamber, stuck firmly there and quivering. If he didn’t know better, he’d say the schlorping mass was afraid.
“Damn,” he whispered under his breath, and saw the stuck sample shimmer in response.
“Damn!” He said it forcefully, and the thing on the roof deformed slightly. A look at the sound reading showed it had mimicked his voice almost exactly.
Moving back to his console, he punched up a sequence of tests, the broadest batch he could find. For the better part of an hour he sat and watched as the strange buoyant sample writhed on the ceiling, and as the testing spun down, saw it slap back into the basin.
It didn’t take him long to find the result he was looking for, and then quickly check to make sure the test door was secure. Pulling the office phone from its cradle, he ignored the polite requests of the operator on the end of the line and demanded to speak to Chairman Ryan. For several minutes he hovered in hold limbo, but finally the man’s dusty voice came through.
“What? This had better be good, Trommer.”
“It is, sir, and you’d better get down here. Your flyboys found intelligent life and couldn’t even recognize it - I’ve spent the last three days poking and prodding at it. I’d say you owe it an apology.”
- D
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