She enjoyed gliding her seat around the magnificent hologram of the earth, discussing the weather with Max as if he was a close friend and colleague (which he was, in a way, because she spent more time with him than with anyone else.) She especially loved to watch the huge sea currents draw patterns on the surface of the oceans, even if she was irritated by the signs of environmental damage by a growing human population. The rain forests were shrinking rapidly and the cities were expanding, creeping like a rash across the surface of the beautiful planet.
Now, as she pushed her nose closer to the spot that had caught her attention on the surface of the South Pacific Ocean, a frown creased her brow. She pressed a dial on the keyboard and with an electronic “beep”, a datascriber popped up in front of her. A 3D image displayed current information about temperatures and wind speeds in the area.
“It all seems normal enough, but still …” Sabatina mumbled to herself, gliding towards a spot a little bit further to the south. Something there was definitely not as it should be.
“What’s going on, Max?” she asked.
“Ah, we be talking. I thoughts you would never asks!” the metallic voice of Max answered grumpily.
“We really should do something about your grammar circuits, Max. You have some of the most advanced artificial intelligence in the world, but you sound like an idiot. But it seems we don’t have time for that today.”
Sabatina ignored the long sigh that escaped from Max’s speakers, which were concealed somewhere in the roof above her head. It was followed by what sounded like the squeaking of a poorly oiled bicycle, and then a drawn-out “twang”, as if a rusty spring had been released somewhere in his intricate machinery.
“Stop fooling around, Max! There’s no time for theatrics today. Get on with it! What’s happening between 20° and 30° south, just east of the Pitcairn Islands?” Sabatina’s eyes were focused on the spot, the silver frame of her spectacles sliding down to the tip of her nose. “It looks as if there’s an unnatural disturbance in the ocean, and an unusual low-pressure system is building up in the atmosphere. What on earth is happening there?”
“Aha, so you be not just asleeps! You notices!” Max’s circuits were well versed in sarcasm, and now it was the professor’s turn to heave a long sigh. Max could be grumpy. Maybe one day, when she got around to it, she could reprogramme him to be a little bit more cheerful and optimistic.
The hologram was now displaying an image of seawater slowly churning in the South Pacific Ocean. A darker spot developed, with a circle of white foam swirling in its centre.
Suddenly a red light on the wall of the laboratory began to blink, and an alarm buzzed. Another holographic image popped up. Sabatina sighed again – this was no time for a virtual visit from her boss!
Mr Amsterdam reclined comfortably in an overstuffed chair as he floated at a slightly lopsided angle, about two metres above the floor of the laboratory. His image was slightly out of focus – it looked transparent and grey, and flickered occasionally as if he was about to burst like a bubble of soap. Sabatina knew that in real life he also looked sickly, and that the bluish tint to his long face was probably caused by smoking too many cigars and never sleeping for more than two hours at a stretch.
Even as a hologram, the director of US was not a welcome visitor to her laboratory: he was forever meddling, and Sabatina was annoyed to be interrupted in her work.
Wringing his pale fingers on his lap, he spoke with a frog-like voice. “Professor, there’s some form of havoc in the ocean somewhere to the West of South America. I presume you’ve a report ready on this, and I would like to know why you are not keeping US informed.”
Sabatina’s nostrils flared slightly. “Max and I have noticed the disturbance. It only started two minutes and fourteen seconds ago – a bit early to expect a full report, don’t you think? But as you are here, I can already tell you that the disturbance appears to be originating from the sea floor itself, and it is causing high-frequency waves to pulse towards the surface.” She tapped a few keys on the datascriber to produce some intricate graphs. “See for yourself. It doesn’t have the characteristics of an ordinary earthquake. Max is monitoring weather patterns as we speak, and we’re also trying to ascertain if there is stratospheric turbulence caused by these abnormal oceanic conditions.”
“Trying to?” Mr Amsterdam asked dourly. “With all of the equipment at your disposal, you should already have all the facts!”
From his speakers in the roof Max gave a soft snort, while silently feeding more information to the datascriber’s screen.
Sabatina continued to talk as she read from the screen. “Have you received any reports of distress signals from sea traffic? Luckily there are very view ships in the vicinity, but shouldn’t you be tending to that rather than disturbing our work?” She turned in her seat to fix an icy stare on the snail-like old man. Her eyes were an unusual shade of blue, almost purple, and although she had perfected the art of that cold stare, she had little hope that it would have an effect on the shaky hologram of her boss.
Mr Amsterdam lifted one corner of his long upper lip in a sneer. Then, with a short electronic snap, his image vaporised and vanished.
“Well!” Sabatina said in exasperation. “So much for formalities! Really, Max, the society magazines need to come up with a new etiquette for virtual visits. Not even a ‘Goodbye, dear lady, and good luck with your relentless efforts to solve yet another environmental mystery!’ Well, at least we’ve got rid of him.” She turned back to her work. “So, what else can you tell me?”
The computer remained silent for a while, as if in deep thought, and Sabatina could feel her stomach tightening – the great supercomputer never hesitated like that. With her long fingers, Sabatina nervously ruffled the spikes of her snow-white hair.
“Max, the disturbance seems to be fading, and so is your attention,” she urged. “The data indicates that the shock waves, if that’s what they were, are rapidly losing amplitude. A large circle of high-frequency waves is now pulsing through an area stretching 1 000 kilometres from the epicentre. It looks like they’re high above the auditory limit. Is this dangerous?”
Again, there were a few moments of silence as Max processed millions of megabytes of data. At last he spoke: “Ha, apart from ticklings the gills of some little fishes, they may perhaps affects large rock formations and tectonic vaults. However, I doubts if the signal is strong enough.”
Sabatina was not sure what to make of that – were the waves dangerous or not?
“I looks in my data files about the possible effects of waves of such a frequency on sea life,” he continued. “You has to wait.”
“I’ve done enough waiting, Max!” Sabatina replied impatiently. “The whole thing, whatever it was, seems to be fading now …”
The Environator was again projecting a placid scene over the South Pacific Ocean, and the flickering figures on the datascriber had also calmed down. Whatever it was, it had disappeared as quickly and unexpectedly as it had started.
“Max, give me an update,” Sabatina commanded.
“Yes, boss. Of course, boss. Everything you says, boss!”
But just before Sabatina lost her patience, Max started spurting out figures on the datascriber in front of her. She studied the details of the mysterious event. The disturbance had lasted precisely three minutes and five seconds, and had left no after-effects at all.
Sabatina slowly began to relax – it was as if nothing had ever happened, and to her relief, Mr Amsterdam didn’t make another appearance either. Yet she was still uneasy.
What had it been? What had caused it? Why had it happened?
The professor mulled